


Under a Shadowed Sky

by Lizardbeth



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Big Bang Challenge, Cylons, Ensemble Cast, Episode: s04e12 Revelations, F/M, Novel, Romance, Season/Series 4.5, Tragedy, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-06
Updated: 2010-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-12 11:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 59,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the ruins of a gray Earth, Sam and Kara face the truth that the gods aren't finished with either of them yet. While the Fleet crumbles under the dark weight of despair, some find hope in new wonders, as the gods bring the humans and cylons to their final destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for BSG Big Bang 2010. This began as a cracky attempt at wingfic, which became a more serious attempt to deal with wingfic in the rather dark 'verse of BSG. And that became a complete redo of 4.5.
> 
> There is no rape in this story (I always warn for that); however, everything else is fair game. This is BSG, after all.
> 
> Thanks to Lucyparavel for the beta and hand-holding, and to Sabaceanbabe for the beta AND the utterly amazing art that goes with this story.

The memory hit like a flash of light in a pitch-black room. He was holding a guitar -- **this** guitar - playing his song. He could feel his own joy and peace in the music, so different from his current feeling of numb despair. He had been standing right here, playing, with the sunlight on him. It seemed to be a better, more pure version of himself.

In the next moment, the pain ripped up his spine like fire.

The memory-dream was torn away, as he gasped. "What the -- " Another wave slammed into him, and he had to bite his lip to hold back the moan at the fire across his skin.

What was happening to him? He felt as if he was burning, but on the inside of his body. Was it the radiation, doing something to his Cylon body? Was he breaking down? Maybe he was dissolving...

He staggered across the sand, blindly seeking some place to get away from this agony. He found partial walls to keep himself somewhat upright as he struggled onward, seeing solitude to curl up into this sudden hell.

He didn't cry out or look for anyone's help. No one else seemed to notice, anyway.

He stumbled his way through the ruins, finally driven to his knees as another jolt of nauseating pain went through him.

Right in front him was Tory, curled up at the base of a wall, moaning softly. "Tory?" he asked hoarsely, scarcely able to speak.

She opened her eyes, which were wet with tears. "What's happening to us?"

"I don't know. But frakking gods, it hurts." He intended to get to his feet and move past, but a new wave went through him, and his flightsuit was suddenly too tight, too hot.

"Are we dying?" Tory moaned and choked on a cry as she convulsed in the sand.

Her back was swollen, he saw through his tears -- she'd already thrown off her jacket and her blouse was stretched around a large growth on her middle back. The same thing was growing on him, he thought. Panicked horror rose through him, wanting to get rid of it.

"Frak." He peeled out of his jacket and unzipped his flightsuit. For a few seconds, the cold air numbed the pain, but then another pulse sent him into the sand, helpless to do anything but endure.

"Sam," Tory pleaded. He forced himself to look, finding her hand close to his, but she couldn't reach him.

Even though he didn't want anything to do with Tory anymore, this wasn't the time. Right now it was about what they were suffering together, so he gripped her hand tightly.

Whatever the hell was happening to them, at least they weren't each suffering alone.

Every beat of his heart pushed liquid fire through his veins, burning his bones. It didn't stop, didn't let up, until finally, it all went grey and then black.

* * *

"Sam?" a whisper woke him, and he stirred.

He didn't hurt any more but he felt wet and cold. His mouth was as dry as the sand beneath him.

He stirred, lifting his head, and nearly fell over when he couldn't keep his torso upright. He tried again, pushing up with his trembling arms.

"Oh my gods. Sam, what's happening to us?" Tory whispered. He looked at her.

At first he couldn't understand what he was seeing. There was Tory, clutching her shirt to her chest, with her black hair loose on her bare shoulders. And she had a ... lump on her back. It was some sort of huge tumor-like thing, with vague shapes underneath a clear membrane of skin, reminding him of the amniotic sack of some animals.

"Yours broke," she whispered. She reached behind him and touched **something**. He shivered and looked over his shoulder - there were strips of membrane he found first, but most of all, there were these... things. He shrugged his shoulders and felt the weight on his shoulder-blades and strange new muscles in his back and his chest.

"I think they're wings," she murmured.

"Wings?" he repeated. "No frakking way. We're toasters, not frakking birds."

She winced. "They're wings," she repeated and nearly fell over when she overbalanced, reaching over to open up one of the things hanging off him. She tugged the tip gently around - and he could **feel** it, as if she was touching one of his toes, but not quite, and he could feel something stretching.

It looked like a wing tip. He thought at first it was like a bat's, all skin and bone, but when he touched it he realized there were feathers -- they were wet and stuck together, but they were feathers.

 _Feathers. Wings. Frakking wings._

He stared and shook his head in confusion. Bad enough being a frakking Cylon, now he was... what? A Cylon **bird**? Some kind of freak, in any case. Roslin was going to airlock them all, amnesty or no amnesty, and he couldn't say she'd be wrong to do it either.

Tory jerked and shifted. "Sam, could you -- could you please?" she asked and turned to show him her back. "I need--"

She needed to open her wings. He swallowed and grabbed a hold of the membrane and with a twist, he'd broken it. A rush of clear fluid mixed with a little blood came out first. She gasped with the sharp pain, but then let out a sigh as he gently helped her wings out of the confinement. Hers seemed darker than his.

"That's much better," she said, and gave herself a full body shake so the wings flopped out, draping inelegantly down to the sand.

He climbed to his feet, having trouble finding his balance at first with the weight hanging strangely behind him like a heavy, wet cloak off his shoulders. But with some experimentation he learned to shrug in a new way and move them up and down, and then abruptly, as if the connection formed to his brain, the wings snapped open to either side of him.

It was peculiar. He could feel the breeze on them as if he had another set of arms, but it felt... good. His tanks had split up the back, so he tugged the remnants away, to stand half-naked and cold, but he scarcely noticed as he held the wings out, learning how to stretch them out and then how to work a new set of muscles in his back to draw them back together.

"That's beautiful," Tory whispered, gazing up at him.

When he held them out at full extent, they were each at least as long as he was tall. Now that they were drying, the feathers were lightening, turning more of a dove grey color.

"You're thinner," she told him, giving him a look up and down.

He didn't feel any lighter, but realized she was right, since his flight suit was barely hanging on his hips. He tightened the belt as far as it would go - all four notches - and it was still loose. His wrists looked more bony than he remembered.

He caught the tip of one wing in his hand, combing his fingers through the feathers. Some were very stiff, and some were soft, and they ranged in size as well. "Do you think we can fly?" he wondered. "If we converted enough mass to the wings away from our bones - these look like they might be long enough to carry me..."

She shook her head in wonder, still staring. "I don't know... It seems risky, though."

"I'd rather die trying to fly, than get airlocked as a freak."

"Good point," she agreed and held up a hand for him to help her to her feet. When he pulled her up, she seemed the same weight, but her hand felt delicate grasping his. Her wings were black like her hair, so for a moment it seemed that she had hair down to the ground before she flexed her shoulders and snapped them outward as he had.

"Oh, yours are beautiful," Sam said in admiration. "Like a raven." He ran a hand across his own with a wry smile. "Instead of a pigeon."

She shook her head. "That's no pigeon I've ever seen. Yours shimmer all silvery."

Sam found he couldn't stop combing his fingers through his feathers, fluffing and straightening them. The repetitive task was soothing, as long as he didn't think about what he was doing, which was **preening**. It was so ridiculous and impossible and freakish that his brain shut off, not wanting to deal with it. It was much better to smooth the feathers and not think about anything.

He heard footsteps of someone approaching and in the jolt of panic and embarrassment, looked around wildly for a place to hide. Which was ludicrous, since he had **enormous frakking wings**. He couldn't possibly hide them anywhere.

He and Tory exchanged a look of resignation and then turned to face the inevitable discovery.

But Galen stumbled into view around the ruins, and he stared at them. "Oh thank the gods, I thought it might just be me."

Galen was obviously thinner, his entire body shape changing to something less burly. His wings were black like Tory's, still hanging limply down, all bedraggled.

"The colonel?" Sam asked. It had to be all four of them.

Galen shook his head. "I don't know. He was down at the beach, last I saw." His lip twitched a half-smile of morbid humor. "He's probably going to Adama right now to turn us all in. Again."

"The Cylons will give us refuge," Tory said.

Galen looked at her, lifting his brows in skepticism. "You think? I don't know what the frak we are, but we're sure not Cylons like them. I **remember** this place --" His gaze wandered away among the ruins. "Right before I felt that pain, I remembered it. As it was."

"Me, too," Sam agreed, remembering playing the guitar again. He'd never played it in the Colonies -- didn't even know how -- but now he knew he could. "You know that frakking song? I was playing it on a guitar right before... right before... " He stopped, not wanting to put words to it and make it real. But he knew what that blinding flash of light had been.

"Before we died," Tory finished for him.

"Yeah." The breeze picked up and unconsciously he brought the wings forward, shielding his body and keeping him warmer.

They all stared at each other. It felt like that moment when they'd all stared in horror at realizing what they were; now they were staring because they had no frakking clue.

"Were they all like this?" Tory wondered and brushed her hand against the nearest partial wall, bits of concrete crumbling away. "Our people? The buildings across the water were tall. But there's a bridge - they wouldn't need a bridge if they could fly..."

Galen shook his head. "It's impossible. We'd need wings twice this size to lift our mass in this gravity."

Sam's gaze went to the bridge and the broken support tower. "I don't know if that's true..." he murmured. The tower called to him, wanting him to go to the bridge deck. It would be beautiful up there.

"It's physics," Galen said, shrugging. "We're too heavy."

"I'm gonna try it," Sam decided suddenly.

Both of them turned to him in alarm. "You'll fall," Galen warned. "Don't do it."

"It won't work," Tory echoed. "Let's get this over with. We'll go back to the landing zone and show them and see--"

He interrupted sharply. "No, I want to try it. I said I'd rather die trying to fly than be airlocked, and I meant it. Even if I fall... " he looked up at the sky above the bridge and across the water and whispered, "It'll be glorious."

"But, Sam--" Tory objected, hand on his arm.

He jerked free and stepped away. "Does it matter?" he demanded roughly. "What do I have? I don't want to live with the frakking Cylons, and the humans are never going to accept us. Not before, and sure as hell not now. So frak it. If I'm going out, it's on my terms. And I'm going to fly."

"But -- " Tory started again, but Galen grabbed her hand.

"Let him," he said. "It's his decision. One I'd make myself, if I didn't have Nicky."

"Thanks, Galen." Sam forced a bit of a smile. "If you see me again, you'll know it works."

"And if you fall off that bridge and get killed?" Tory demanded. "What do you want us to tell Kara?"

He held back the bitter words that Kara probably wouldn't care. He hoped the words weren't true, but she certainly didn't care enough. If she didn't understand or accept his being a Cylon, how the hell was she going to deal with him being something even stranger? He drew a deep breath. "If she asks, tell her I was trying to fly. She'll understand that much, I think."

"Be careful," Galen wished him.

"Before or after I throw myself off a bridge?" Sam asked wryly, and Galen chuckled. Tory looked appalled but didn't try to stop him again as he walked away.

He headed toward the bridge, hiding once behind a partial wall when he saw Karl and Sharon heading back toward the landing area.

Then he was alone. His footsteps seemed to echo, crunching the sand under his feet.

At the base of the bridge tower, he stripped off the bottom of his flightsuit, leaving him in shorts and socks. It was chilly, but there was no way to zip the flightsuit up and it would get in the way if he left it hanging. Then he started to climb.

The concrete was cracking and crumbling, which made it both easier and more dangerous to climb, especially with a weight hanging off his back. But he figured out that if he extended the wings, the wind could catch the backs and keep him against the wall. By the time he got to the top, the pads of his fingers were rough and his nails were broken.

He crawled up over the edge and onto the old road bed. He stood up cautiously, wary of rusty girders that might not be willing to support his extra weight, but it seemed solid enough. He kept the wings close for warmth, since the wind was even stronger up here.

The light was golden as the sun slipped down to the afternoon, and glimmered on the sea between him and the city across the bay. It added a welcome touch of color to the gray sand and gray ruins.

He crept to the edge and looked down. Frak. The sea was a long way down. A really long way down.

He swallowed and licked his lips, stepping backward a few paces to think about this. Baby birds didn't fly right away - they had to fledge. He was already feathered, including some as long as his forearm. Fledglings also had to practice a little before letting instinct take over.

Spreading the wings open seemed more natural already, and he stretched them out in full spread, feeling the faint ache in the tendons that opened and closed them. Then he practiced angling the wings, feeling how they caught the wind differently. It was still weird -- it felt like wind blowing through his hair, but in a different, new part of his body.

He stood there for several minutes with his eyes closed, trying to absorb it as deeply as he could.

If Galen was right, he was going to fall. Even if the wings were enough for him to glide, he'd still hit the water - possibly hard enough to get killed, and even if not, it'd be hard to swim with giant, water-logged wings dragging him down.

So, if he did this and it didn't work, he was going to die. Resurrection was gone, even if it applied to him anyway, so this was it.

But he realized he wasn't afraid. The Fleet had been brought to this place for a reason, and since that reason obviously wasn't to live here, it had to be something else. There had to be a purpose behind all this. Someone or something had woken them up with **his** song and then led Kara to find the signal in her ghost Viper. And surely if that Someone had bothered to give him wings, it wasn't so he'd walk around with a funny growth on his back. Wings were for flight. Someone had to try, and it might as well be him.

Before he changed his mind, he took two running steps and flung himself into the air.

\-- _FRAK._ \--

He was falling. The wings were out and catching the air, but not enough. It was not enough - he was gonna crash into the water and die - he was falling-

\-- _falling_ \--

Then he moved his arms forward and he suddenly had room to pull the wings down, feeling the strain as the feathers shifted to lock in place against the air beneath him. Frak, being his own parachute hurt like hell. But his fall slowed. Then he pulled the wings down again and again, as the water got closer and closer. He lifted his feet, to straighten out his legs, holding them as near to the same plane as the wings as he could to reduce the drag.

That helped, and then he found the right way to hold the wings, pulled them down, and the resultant lift pulled him suddenly higher, away from the water.

He sucked in air and let it out in a yell. He was gliding - the wind on his skin and through his hair. His hands stretched out before him, cutting through the air like a fish through water. And for an instant, it was perfect.

Then he was falling again, and he had to flap some more. This time, he was able to gain some altitude and tried to use the wind to gain more, rising upward like a kite.

He was flying. He was actually frakking flying. And for the first time in a long time -- gods, such a long time -- he could feel the sheer joy bubbling in his chest.

 _Flying. **Flying.** He was alive._

He looked down at the water and toward the hidden sun. Then he dipped one wing to turn -- too sharply and he started to fall. Frak. Beating the wings again, he recovered and tried again, this time angling his body only a little and keeping the wings stiff. This time the turn was more gradual and graceful, and he went back toward shore.

He was grinning as he headed for the ships and when he started to see people, let out a yell to get their attention.

He saw Tory and Galen, with their shining black wings, and that had to be Saul with steel-colored wings rising behind him, nearly the same color as the sand. He saw D'Anna, and Caprica's pale blonde hair gleaming. Roslin and Adama. Apollo and Dee. Helo and Sharon. They all turned to look upward as he flew overhead.

And he shouted, "It works, Galen!" Not that Galen could probably hear him, but it didn't matter.

He was **flying.**

* * *

Dee heard the murmurs and the gasps, and at first resisted looking, as she held the jacks in her hand.

Some little child had once played with these, until nuclear fire had rained from the sky. The child was dead, along with her family and her entire people, and the hope of the last remnants of the Twelve Tribes as well.

So much death. They'd given so much to get here, and for what? To find a wasteland, uninhabitable by anything larger than an insect.

"What the hell?" She heard Lee say in a strange tone of voice she'd never heard before. It was enough to get her to raise her head and see what he was looking at.

She saw some sort of huge bird in the air, flying toward her, high above the ruined temple. She was first a bit amused, since everyone had been so sure there was no large animals on the planet and somehow they'd missed something half the size of a Viper.

Then she realized what it was. "Oh, my gods."

It was Sam Anders, with a huge pair of dove grey wings out to either side, and he was yelling as he flew overhead.

At first she wanted to believe he was playing a joke and wearing some kind of fake wings in a harness. But she could see he wasn't. It was him, wearing only his undershorts and an enormous pair of wings growing out of his back. Somehow.

He soared above everyone, his grin bright enough to make her own heart lighten in answer, and she followed him with her eyes until he turned toward the south and disappeared from sight.

When she lowered her gaze finally, it was to find Galen and Tory and the colonel approaching on foot across the sand -- they all had wings, too.

"What happened?" Lee murmured. "How is that even possible?"

She seized his hand. "I think..." she started, and when she didn't finish, he glanced down at her, a bemused smile on his lips. He pulled her to her feet, and she glanced at the three winged Cylons and thought about the one who'd flown overhead. "I think it means we came here for a reason, Lee. Not the reason we all thought we were here, but for this. It's amazing."

"It is," he agreed. His eyes met hers, and they were full of the same new-found wonder. Her breath caught.

His free hand touched her cheek, and she could feel his fingers were trembling a little. His throat worked, as if he wanted to say something, and finally he murmured, "I miss you." Then he flushed, and took his hand away, as if he'd said too much, but she grabbed his hand again.

Her lips widened into a smile. "Seeing that makes me think anything's possible," she murmured.

"Anything?" he repeated as if he wanted to make sure that he had heard her correctly.

"Anything," she said and squeezed his hand.

He nodded, and could only manage to stare at her a moment, and she saw all his regrets, but also his love still there. Then he cleared his throat, "Then, I was wondering... if you'd like to start over. Would you like a drink at Joes, when we're back?"

She didn't make him wait. "I'd like that."

This place was an ending to so many things, but maybe it could also be a beginning.

She put the jacks in her jacket pocket and though she let go of Lee's hand, she stayed close to him as they went to join the Admiral, who was about to confront his XO's latest change in status.

* * *

  
Sam didn't see Kara down there, and he had the sudden urge to find her. It might be courting her disdain or disgust, but he had to show her what he'd become. Going to her was like wiggling a loose tooth -- it might be painful, but he couldn't stop trying.

There, coming up from the south, was Leoben. His dumbfounded expression was easy to read from twenty meters up, as he stared at Sam. Leoben looked alone, which suggested he'd left Kara southward someplace.

Sam gained some more altitude, feeling his chest and shoulders and back start to ache. He was going to have to land soon. But he could find Kara first.

He squinted downward, looking for her bright blonde hair among the vegetation and grey sand. He should get goggles -- the wind was making his eyes water and it was hard to see.

He saw the glint of metal before he saw Kara and glided around in a slow circle, realizing it looked like a Viper engine cone. And there was a piece of stabilizer. And a chunk of the fuselage, with Kara standing nearby. She didn't seem to notice the big bird in the sky.

Coming down was more like a combat landing a Viper on the deck of _Galactica_ than he wanted it to be. He picked a nice wide grassy area and glided downward, touching his feet and running along the ground and then held out the wings as a brake.

The force slammed him to such a sudden stop he pitched forward on his face, right into the hard ground and dry grass.

"Damn it," he muttered and stayed there a moment while he tried to get his breath back. He was going to have to practice landings.

His whole body ached in new and interesting ways, too, even his abdominals and lats were aching as if they'd had a hard workout. When he pushed himself upright, his arms trembled, and when he climbed to his feet, he could barely lift the wings high enough so they didn't drag the ground.

Finding Kara wasn't difficult - she was standing in the same place at the far edge of the meadow. She was still facing away, as he got closer, and he didn't think she'd noticed at all.

But she heard him approaching through the dry grass and taunted loudly, without looking, "My destiny not quite what you expected, you coward? Well you can take your prophecies and your streams and shove them all up your ass. Get the frak away from me."

Sam knew she thought it was Leoben coming back, but stopped a few paces behind her anyway. "Kara?"

She stiffened and took a moment to answer, "Go away, Sam. Don't look at it. You won't like it."

He'd already seen it from the air, and he knew what it was. "It's your old Viper, isn't it?" he asked, though it wasn't much of a question.

"There's a pilot in it," she added and laughed; it was a short, brittle sound. "There's me in it. How the hell is that possible? What am I, Sam? Leoben didn't know, but you're one of the frakking Final Five. Maybe you know."

"I don't even know what I am, Kara," he answered softly.

"Yeah, I figured. So you gonna run away, too? Frakking toasters," she bit out in disgust.

He ignored the attack, realizing she was being confronted with something inexplicable, too.

"I'm not running away," he answered. "But you might want me to, once you see what's happened. Kara, turn around." She resisted, staring at the thing in the cockpit. "Please, look at me. You have to see."

"See what?" she demanded, and turned. Her eyes grew round with stunned disbelief. "What the frak?"

He pushed through his tiredness and opened his wings to their full span. She stared. He explained haltingly, "Somehow, in the past few hours, this happened. To me and the other three. Something ... triggered us, again, to change us."

"Lords of Kobol," she muttered.

When she didn't say anything more, he rushed to fill the silence, "I don't know how, I don't why, or what it means, or really much of anything, but it happened. And I know that makes me a freak. I'm something stranger than a Cylon, or a different kind of Cylon or, frak, I don't even know - but I can't think of it as terrible. Not when I can fly."

He moved them once, sending a rush of air across the grass, but winced at the pain of overstrained muscles in his chest and back. He let out a breath and furled the wings up against his back to rest them. It left his front side chilled, and he folded his arms, trying vainly to keep some heat in.

"You can fly?" she repeated in wonder.

"I flew all the way from the bridge ruin, and boy, are my wings tired," he quipped, and it was a lame joke, but it did make her lips twitch in amusement.

"That's impossible," she said.

"It's not. Look, the point is - you're not the only one who doesn't know **what** the frak you are, Kara. You might have come back from the dead, or whatever, but I remember this place. Somehow, I remember it even though it got nuked to hell over a thousand years ago. And look at me, I have frakking **wings**. I can't explain any of it."

He pulled in a deep breath, determined to let her hear all of it, while she was listening. "But I'm tired of sitting around, waiting to die. I'm tired of being without hope, existing from day to day, wondering when it's all gonna end. When I was flying, I remembered what it was like to feel alive again." Her face was giving nothing away, and he gave a little shrug. "But if you can't accept what's happened, then fine, that's your choice. If this is too much, I get that. Neither of us are who we were before. But I have to believe we - you and I - are like this for a reason, and our purpose isn't over yet."

He stopped, needing to catch his breath after the passionate speech rushed out of him, and Kara still didn't say anything. His shoulders slumped in disappointment. He told himself he'd known this would happen; it wasn't unexpected. He'd thrown his last shot, and he'd missed. Game over.

He waited another breath or two and then turned toward the landing area, to start walking toward the ships, back the way he'd flown.

Then she murmured, in such a soft voice he almost didn't hear, "Sam?"

He turned back. She was looking after him with an expression he couldn't decipher -- confusion, fear, concern, and wonder, too. "Yes?" he asked cautiously, not daring to let himself hope.

Then she took two steps toward him. "Shut up." She threw a hand around his neck to pull him down, mouth on hers to kiss him deeply. He kissed back, his hands rising to frame her face.

The heat of her lips stung, waking blood turned sluggish by the cold. He pressed closer, warming himself on her fire. He didn't know if this meant 'stay' or 'goodbye', but at least for the moment, he let himself get lost in it, burying his doubt and confusion in the familiar touch of her mouth.

Her hand felt hot on his skin, when she dropped it on his shoulder. Then she recoiled backward with a gasp. "Frak, Sam, you're like ice."

"My jacket doesn't exactly fit anymore," he shrugged, giving her a wry smile. Now that she wasn't right up against him, he shivered. The sun was now completely hidden behind the thicker western clouds, and frigid wind brushed against his skin.

"We'll have to do something about that," she declared, "because you can't walk around mostly naked like this. Nice though it may be to look at," she added, her gaze slipping downward with a smirk, "I'm not much for sharing."

"Oh yeah?" he returned, smiling.

"Nope. You may be some kind of Cylon-bird hybrid whatever, but you're **my** Cylon-bird hybrid whatever," she said with a casual shrug and a smile, knowing exactly what she was saying without saying, and the hope that had lain dormant in his chest burst back to life.

"And you're my miracle," he whispered and kissed her lips again, mouth opening for her insistent tongue, then dropping to kiss her neck, eager to taste all of her after so long apart.

But the moment was broken when he shivered again, more violently, and his teeth chattered.

"You're freezing," she realized. Both her hands started rubbing at his shoulders and down his arms briskly, trying to warm him up.

"It's okay," he protested. "Let's not worry about that, right now." He didn't want to waste a moment over something so dumb as being a little cold. He was bending to kiss her again and somehow lost his balance, falling into her.

"Sam!" Kara caught him, staggering backward with him in her arms until he got his feet under him and could pull back.

"Sorry. A little light-headed."

She frowned at him. "Have you eaten?"

"Not since the ship," he said, with a shrug.

"I'm certainly no expert on flying Cylons," her lips flashed a smile at the absurdity of it, "but I'd think a change like that, plus flying, would have to use up a lot of energy." Her gaze dropped again, this time frowning at him in concern. "You look like you dropped fifteen kilos since I saw you last."

"Don't worry about it, I'm fine," he protested. But she was likely right. He'd thought he was sort of nauseated, but it was probably hunger.

She considered him for a moment and shook her head. "Yeah, I've heard that before from the idiot who nearly killed himself playing in the mud on New Caprica when he had pneumonia."

He wanted to retort something sarcastic, but couldn't think of anything, as he shivered again. The air wasn't even that cold, but he felt like all the warmth was being leached from his body.

"Ok, that's it," she muttered, sounding irritated. She fingered her jacket as if plotting to give it to him, but there was no way it would fit, even if he hadn't grown wings. Her frown turned grumpy. Then her eyes flickered with a sudden idea and she turned to the Viper cockpit, heading back to it with a decisive step. She rooted beneath the seat, coming up with the emergency kit. "At least this is good for something," she muttered and popped the case open on the ground.

It was stocked with the usual medical supplies and survival gear, including a folded foil blanket, which she pulled out and handed to him. "Here, that should help."

Trying to put it around his body beneath the wings was an exercise in trying to figure out where his new body parts were located. He found he could wrap the blanket around his torso, beneath the wings. That left the bulk of the feathers outside, hanging from the 'elbow' joint behind his head and falling in a tidy line nearly to his knees. His shoulders and lower legs were still bare, but at least his middle was warming up.

Then she ripped open a ration bar and handed it to him. "Eat it."

He eyed it in disgust and broke it, trying to give her back a half. "Here, you should eat, too."

She folded her arms in refusal and glared at him. "I'm not the one about to pass out. And I can't carry your ass back to the ships. So, eat it."

"I am not about to pass out," he protested and had to blink, as the edges of his vision rippled. So maybe he was a little closer to passing out than he wanted to admit. He took a reluctant nibble of the ration bar. He must have been even hungrier than he'd thought, because it actually tasted pretty delicious. He disposed of it in four bites under Kara's watchful eye.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Good, then you can help me with ... me." She turned back to the Viper, her arms folded. "I want to get rid of it before anyone else sees."

He moved up beside her. "That's not you," he told her.

She glanced up at him, a distressed line between her brows and liquid eyes. "It is! It's my old Viper, I found the number back over there. And that ... thing in there was wearing my tags!" She took a long chain out of her jacket pocket and flung something at Sam. He caught it against his chest, dangling a single dog tag and a ring on a chain from his fingers, that matched the one still hanging at her chest. She went on, more quietly, "It's me. Which makes this..." she tugged at her jacket collar, "this body not me. I feel like me, I remember me, but **that's** the real me. That's the Kara you met on Caprica."

He shook his head in disagreement. "I... can't explain how you came back, though I know the gods have a lot to do with it," he said slowly, "But, Kara, Apollo saw your Viper blow up. If that original Viper exists at all, it's in a million pieces inside that gas giant. Whatever brought you back, must have also made this, same as they sent you back in that shiny new Viper."

She rocked back on her heels as if the thought hadn't occurred to her, that this Viper and the body in it were no more 'real' than she was. But Sam knew any force capable of resurrecting Kara and rebuilding her Viper, was easily capable of making a crash scene as well. Which wasn't to say it wasn't disturbing to look at the Viper pieces and remember his grief when she'd died. He'd lost himself that day and had been building himself back up when the Cylon thing had cracked it all open again.

Strangely enough wings seemed to be helping, not breaking him apart again. Maybe he'd had so much thrown at him lately he didn't care anymore. Or maybe the wonder of flying under his own power made up for the confusion and weirdness.

Kara stared at the corpse in the cockpit for a long time in the orange light, before asking in a low, ragged voice, "But why? Why would the gods want me to find my body like this?"

He put his arm over her shoulders and it was a measure of her distress that she let him, pushing closer to his body. He was careful to hold her away from the wings, in case the touch freaked her out. "I don't know." He kissed her hair and rested his cheek on it. "I'm stumbling around in this, same as you. But I believe there's a reason."

"I'd like to believe that."

"Believe it. Whatever's going on, wherever we're going, it's not done yet."

"You're full of cheerful thoughts," she muttered and pulled away with a deep breath. "Come on, let's get rid of this thing before someone finds us and we lose the light."

She started for the Viper, but he caught her shoulder. "Let me do it, Kara. You build a fire."

She hesitated, as if she wanted to object, but then she nodded. "All right." She moved away to start collecting wood, and he waited until she was out of sight to hang the extra chain around his neck and then he went up to the cockpit.

 _This is not Kara_ , he told himself, looking at the blonde hair still visible to either side of the sunken, desiccated features. It only helped a little. He used the strap cutter in the emergency kit to cut the harness. Then he reached in to pull the body free.

His shoulders were so sore, he could barely lift it. But he wasn't willing to let Kara do it either, not something so horrible. So he took a deep breath and pulled. The charred flight suit gave way with a ripping sound, but then the body was out of the cockpit. He stumbled, nearly falling backward, but caught himself, bracing himself on the fuselage. He was breathing hard and he was sweating as if he'd run there.

"Frak." He rested, propping the body against the metal cockpit, while he shut his eyes. Accustomed to being pretty strong, it was rather humiliating how wiped out he felt. It was going to be hard to fly again, if he didn't get stronger. Maybe he could figure out some new weight-lifting plan, and though he'd never had to use drugs before, he might need to ask Cottle for some kind of enhancement if that was the only way.

But all he had to do right now was lift the not-inconsiderable weight of the remains of what was supposedly Kara. He could see Kara in the failing light, heading with an armful of wood toward the beach. Damn it, she would pick someplace far away to do this.

He rested some more, until she came back into sight and shouted, "Hey! You moving it or making out with it?"

He shuddered in revulsion. "All right, all right. I'm coming."

He tried to let his biceps do the lifting and not his back, and that helped him get the body into his arms, but it was still harder than it should have been. Halfway across the field, he stumbled on a clump of grass and went down. He staggered to his knees, clutching the body to keep it from falling to the ground. His heart was thudding so hard he had to pant to keep up.

"Frak, Anders, stop being such a baby," he muttered. "Get up."

He tried to stand up, but his vision grayed out and he fell back to his knees. He stayed there, arms trembling even though he had the body braced on his legs. His shoulders ached and a long muscle along his spine was spasming like someone was twisting it.

"Gods." He was shivering again, despite the blanket tucked around his middle. He had to get up.

"Sam?"

Kara's voice startled him. He lifted his head, and she frowned when she got a good look at his face. "You're not doing so hot, are you?" she asked.

"Not really," he admitted. "Every muscle in my body is tired, and my bones ache."

"All right. Then give it to me." She bent down and tried to take the corpse from him. He jerked it back.

"Kara, no-- "

She put her hands on her hips. "What? Am I supposed to let you hurt yourself so I don't get my hands dirty? Frak that, Sam."

He looked down into the barely human-seeming features in the battered helmet over his arm. "I don't want you to have to -- "

"I know," she said. "And it's very gallant of you. But I can do this, and you can't. Give it to me."

Knowing she was right, he reluctantly nodded. "I'm sorry," he said with a sigh, feeling ashamed and weak. The one thing he tried to do to help her, and he couldn't even do that.

When she leaned down and their hands touched on the underside of the shredded and burnt flightsuit, she said softly, "Hey." He glanced up to meet her eyes. She made a little smile. "You want to help so badly, you can take the feet."

He carried the boots to keep them from dragging the ground, while Kara got the bulk of the body. When he glimpsed her face, it was set and focused, showing nothing of her feelings, only her determination.

As they walked, he prayed silently, ' _Thank you for sending Kara back. I may not know how or why, but I do know that every moment with this woman in front of me is a gift. Even if I lose her again, these moments make it all worth while._ '

At the pyre, they lowered the body to the pile of sticks Kara had made on the sand.

She straightened and brushed off her hands. "Move back. I have fuel -- last thing we want is for those pretty wings to catch on fire."

She said it mockingly, but he found the comment encouraging. Even if she was being sarcastic, she'd said the wings were pretty. That indicated a little acceptance. But catching on fire would be the capper on this day, so he hauled himself up to his feet and moved away.

Apparently the Viper had some tylium in one of the tanks, and she dumped the contents of a small metal container all across the body and the wood. Igniting a stick with her lighter, she threw the stick at the pyre. The whole things went up in a brilliant sheet of flame.

She moved backward, and he shifted over so she would bump against him. She stopped, her back to his front, and he wrapped his arms around her, offering what comfort he could, as they watched the body burn.

* * *

Dee couldn't stop staring at the wings and thinking of Sam flying overhead. Chief and Tory's wings were black, and the Colonel's were dark grey. The wing joints were behind their heads, so the wings themselves hung down their backs. Both men were shirtless, showing how much their bodies had changed, growing more slender, but also with sharper muscles and thicker tendons where there hadn't been any. Poor Tory had wrapped what looked like the remnants of her shirt around herself in an impromptu tube top and had the wings forward over her shoulders in an attempt to be a little modest and warmer.

"What the hell is this?" Adama demanded, looking at Tigh, Chief, and Tory. "What happened?"

"Apparently, coming home triggered something in us," Tory explained.

"Coming home?" D'Anna repeated curiously.

"We each remembered something about this place, before it died," Chief said. "We used to live here."

Tigh glared sourly at D'Anna, then faced the admiral. "I remember Ellen. She was the fifth."

A low murmur went around as everyone digested that. Dee decided it didn't matter, since Ellen was dead, and she gathered Ellen had never known anyway.

"I thought you might be more upset finding out," D'Anna explained to him. "Once I realized she was dead and none of you remembered, it was my way of protecting you, what little I could."

Tigh snorted.

Roslin shook her head in amazement. "How can you remember something that happened a thousand years ago?"

The three exchanged a look and shrugged. Chief answered, "No idea. We just do. We each had a flash of when this world was still alive, and then everything started to hurt like hell. We passed out, and when we woke up, we were like this."

Baltar shifted, drawing attention, "You realize what this means, right? The Thirteenth Tribe were Cylons. And had wings."

Roslin shook her head. "Why would the Twelve Tribes make human-looking Cylons and give them wings? It doesn't make sense."

"Maybe they weren't created at all," Baltar countered. "Just because they call themselves Cylons may not mean what we think of as Cylons. Nobody, including the Cylons, knows anything about the Final Five. D'Anna only saw them during resurrection, and they don't remember anything of what they are themselves. Don't you find that strange?"

"Is that true?" Roslin asked D'Anna, who nodded.

"I was blessed to see their images in the space between death and resurrection, inside the Temple of Five." D'Anna answered. "And all of my sisters died for it."

"See? I don't think we're going to find answers if we stay inside our narrow ideas of what makes a Cylon." Baltar turned to Roslin, eyes a bit too wide now. Not for the first time, Dee thought that Baltar should learn the fine art of quitting while he was ahead. He was right, but then he proceeded to screw it up, by insisting, "There's something mysterious happening here, the hand of God acting to bring us here to see this and learn what happened long ago." He pulled in a breath, calming himself forcibly. "We've barely scratched the surface of this planet. I think there's more we could find out if we investigate."

"We've sent a few teams to explore other sites on this world," D'Anna offered.

"We should do the same," Roslin agreed and Adama nodded, with a breath.

"Done. But we shouldn't stay long. The Fleet's not going to take well to the news that Earth was destroyed long before we got here."

"Who could?" Roslin asked, looking around at the ruin, and then added softly, "Finding out our refuge is a false promise? The gods led us here. And four Cylons gaining wings doesn't seem like a fair exchange for all we suffered to get here."

"We didn't ask for any of this," Tigh grunted.

"I know that," Roslin said. "But it doesn't change the fact that the rest of us got dragged to this dead world for nothing. So many of us died to reach this planet, and we can't live here."

"Then we'll have to find a new one," Baltar declared. "God will send us guidance when we're ready, through his messengers." He stared directly at the three with wings, and Tyrol chuckled.

"We're not angels. Wings make us freaks."

Baltar shook his head in denial. "No. You're more than that. You have to be." His eyes darted to the side, looking at something that wasn't there. "There are angels," he insisted. "There are."

But everyone ignored him.

Caprica asked, "Are you going to fly, like Sam did?" She directed her question at all three, but ended up on Tigh, where her curious look faded to one more worried at the idea.

Dee glanced up, to see if Sam was flying back, but the sky was empty.

Tigh said, with a snort, "I'm not that crazy."

"I was pretty sure he was going to crash into the water," Chief added. "It shouldn't be possible."

"I want to try," Tory declared. "He looked like he was having fun."

"It looked miraculous," D'Anna added softly. "Say what you will about getting nothing in return, but to me, it was a miracle. My thoughts were so dark and despairing, but then I saw him, and my heart lifted. Maybe that's why we were brought here."

Looking around, Dee saw that she wasn't the only one who found an echo of her own feelings in D'Anna's words.

Helo asked, "Speaking of, where did he go? Maybe we should go look, if he fell and got hurt."

"That's not necessary," Leoben said from the outer edge of the gathering, drawing everyone's attention. "He found Starbuck. They have a lot to discuss." Dee heard somebody chuckle at that, and she couldn't repress a smile either; it was so true it was funny. The Cylon finished with a bit of a shrug, "They'll be back when they're ready."

Dee forced herself not to look at Lee's face at the words, wondering what he felt about the news. Then, as if he could hear her thoughts, Lee's hand found hers, as if to confirm that he'd meant what he said. She smiled a little, and leaned her head into his jacket.

The Admiral noticed, and his grim face lightened at the sight. He probably didn't even realize he moved a step nearer to Roslin, but Dee did, and her smile widened.

* * *

The sky was darkening now, heading toward night, but there were no stars or a moon visible yet, so the only light came from the fire, casting a warm yellow glow into Kara's face and her blonde hair.

The body was gone now, consumed by the flames, and only the wood was left to crackle softly. The wind had died as soon as the sun set, and he felt warm with Kara standing against him and the blanket still wrapped around him.

"I wonder why no one's come looking for us?" she murmured after several minutes of silence.

"Leoben saw me heading for you; he probably told them not to bug us."

"Nice he finally made himself useful. I'll have to send him a fruit basket," she muttered.

He snickered and tightened his arms around her. "Don't lead him on -- it's not nice."

She elbowed him and then turned inside the circle of his arms with a sudden idea. He could see from the sudden glint in her eyes that she meant some kind of mischief. "That means we're alone out here..." Her hands went to his shoulders, rubbing slowly to warm the chilled skin.

He grew still, suddenly painfully aware of how different he was and that she seemed to have forgotten. "Kara..."

"What?" she murmured. Her hands slipped down his chest, tugging the blanket away so it slithered down to the ground. "I have a much better idea how to stay warm."

"Kara."

She ignored that attempt, too, intent on what she wanted. "There's a fire... you know, some people think that's romantic." Both hands, fingers spread, traced his chest and down his stomach.

As much as he wanted her touch, he captured her hands, determined to stop her before she did something she'd regret. "Kara. I --" He had to swallow to get the words out. "I'm a Cylon. I have wings."

She tipped her head back to look up at him. "And I'm dead. So what. Isn't that what you've been saying? That it doesn't matter? Well, it doesn't. And I can tell that despite some **shrinkage** ," she teased, and freed one hand to slide all the way down to press into his undershorts, "nothing important disappeared when you got wings."

The warmth of her hand jumpstarted his blood, which pooled where she was touching, and he lost any other objection in a breath.

She smirked and moved her hand, watching his face. "Nope, you definitely haven't lost anything important."

But he didn't want to stand there and let her grope him, when she was right there. It had been so frakking long... Bending, he captured her mouth in his again, and she shoved closer, more urgent, telling him without words how upset she still was.

And he tried to tell her that he didn't care -- she was still his Kara, still his wife, still the woman he loved, and nothing would ever change that.

He pushed her jacket off and got his hands under her tanks to touch her skin. She was so warm, so soft, so alive...

"Your hands are rough, what the frak did you do?" she muttered as he kissed her neck.

"Climbed up the bridge, so I could jump off."

He didn't realize how that sounded, until she stiffened and pulled back to look into his face. "What? You were going to jump?"

"I wanted the height to see if I could fly," he explained. "I knew I'd need the air to figure out what the hell I was doing."

"Oh." She relaxed again, reassured that he hadn't gone up there to try to kill himself. He decided he wasn't going to mention that dying had been a strong possibility, and one he'd made peace with before jumping.

"Mmm... I definitely like this part..." Her hands moved more slowly, exploring down his chest and stomach and around his waist. Then she paused and asked, not looking him in the face, "Can I touch them?"

"Sure," he answered. He held his breath, wondering what she would think. Her breasts pressed against him, as she reached around him to put her fingers into the feathers.

"They're so soft," she murmured in surprise. "The big ones are stiff but the smaller ones are so soft." She stroked gently, coaxing the wings to open partway, and he closed his eyes to better feel it. She found the delicate bones that supported the main flight feathers and a stroke there made him shudder. She felt the reaction, and did it again. "Like that, do you?" she teased.

His eyes popped open to look down at her, smiling. "It feels... different. But nice."

"'Nice'?" she repeated, eyebrows up, and caressed him again, watching his face intently.

"Better than nice. It's sensitive there," he admitted, voice hoarsening as the touch roused the heat between his legs, too. It was kind of embarrassing to realize how good it felt when she did that.

"Good to know," she said, smirking. "You're so easy, Sam."

"Only for you," he murmured. He kissed her again and then let go, to yank her tanks and bra off. That left her perfect breasts open to his eyes, and the nipples tightening in the cool air, perfect for his fingers.

"Mm, yes," she murmured. "Want you, come on. Let's see how this works."

Her fingers tucked into the waistband of his undershorts and pulled them down, freeing his growing erection. "Oh, I see there's nothing wrong with this part," she teased, giving him a light stroke and a squeeze that nearly cut off his air.

"Your pants, too." He fumbled at her belt, fingers trembling, until she got impatient and slapped his hands away to do it herself. But when she was stymied by her boots, she made a disgruntled noise. She spread the foil blanket on the ground and sat down to take off her boots. "C'mon, sit down," she urged. "We'll end up here anyway. And I'm cold."

And it wasn't as if he didn't want her, because someone would have to be blind to miss that, but he was stricken with doubt again, as he knelt, cautious of the feathers on the ground. They seemed flexible enough to curl out of the way without getting damaged, to his relief, and he let himself sit down, trailing ends of the wings behind him.

As naked as he was, she knelt across his legs, making teasing motions with her hips as she sucked on his tongue and his fingers rubbed at her nipples. He kissed her mouth and down her throat as far as he could reach. His hands slid down the curve of her waist to her hips. She pushed at him, demanding, but he resisted, leaning forward.

"Kara," he muttered. "I can't go on my back."

"Oh right. Big frakking wings." But she didn't stop; she groped blindly beneath her, to grip him in her hot hand, and then shifted enough to push herself down on him. It was shallow, but it still felt so frakking good to be inside her heat. It had been so long, and this time there were no secrets holding them back.

"Sam, need you deeper," she complained.

He let go of her to brace himself with his hands and leaned backward to give them some more room. Then she twisted on him, made him gasp and he found he had leverage now to thrust in her, if he dug his heels in the dirt.

"Like that, just like that," she panted, and ground down on him as he strained up in her. He bit his lip, trying hard to hold out for her, even though it felt as though every nerve in his body was burning and he was getting tight with need.

She shuddered and clenched on him so hard, he was undone. His arms shook, and his hips convulsed as the pleasure smashed through him.

He opened his eyes, trying to remember how to breathe, and pushed upward to find her mouth again. But as he spiraled down from the high, it left him feeling hollowed out and fragile.

"Sam?" Kara murmured, her arms now clasped around his neck, leaning against him, with her head against his shoulder. "Do you really believe that body wasn't me?"

He closed his eyes to think of the right words, knowing it was important he get them right, but his mind was sinking in a fog. "I believe..." he answered slowly, "that Kara Thrace's soul is right here, with me. Bodies feel good, but they're temporary. The soul ... that's forever."

His lips found her head to give her one last kiss, before he let her go and stretched out on his side, too tired to think about getting up. He yawned. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Know I usually do more for you, but it's been a hell of a day..."

"Sam? You're not falling asleep on me?" she demanded.

He planned to say he would never do that, but it came out as a vague murmur. He felt the warmth of the fire on his wings.

And he knew nothing more.

* * *

  
The fire was dying and it was getting cold again. Kara considered getting up, putting clothes on, and going to find more wood.

Or... her eyes rested on Sam next to her. Though he usually stayed awake and was kind of a cuddler after sex, this time he'd all but passed out and barely stirred when she poked him. He was on his stomach, head pillowed on his arms, and those ridiculous wings were limp across his back covering him in feathers down to his ass, with bare legs sticking out and feet in dirty socks hanging off the edge of the blanket into the grass.

Wings. Actual frakking wings. She reached out to adjust one of the long feathers back into line and then couldn't stop stroking the sleek smoothness. With her arm extended, she caught a glimpse of her tattoo - the one that matched his and the pair of wings they made together.

She couldn't remember now whose idea the symbol had been. They'd been tossing ideas drunkenly back and forth all night. She remembered saying they should have circles, to stand for the rings they hadn't had the morning they'd been married. He'd made the rings into the symbol of Caprica for where they met. But she couldn't remember who had added the wings; maybe she'd put them in when she'd started drawing it.

And now he had wings. The tattoos felt eerily prophetic now.

It was weird, and a part of her wanted to get away from him. There was enough weirdness in her life, without adding Sam's, too.

But the larger part of her remembered how good it had felt to stand there with his arms around her and watch the fire consume those remains. She had walked away from that feeling too many times already, and like Sam had said, she was tired of living only in confusion and doubt. Sam's faith in her was totally unwarranted, totally him, but she couldn't push him away again. Better to face their weirdness together, since doing it on their own had very nearly gotten them both killed.

She put on her underwear and her tanks, wrapped the edge of the blanket around their legs, and lay down next to him. She poked him again, and he let out a sigh and rolled onto his side, making room for her. His wing opened up to extend over her, and she was smiling as she fell asleep, tucked into their impromptu nest.

 

 _tbc..._


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone was getting ready to go back, when Helo and Athena came up to where Dee was standing with Lee. Dee thought they wanted to be in the first group up, to get back to Hera. But Leoben was following them and he looked frustrated.

"Apollo! Dee!" Helo called. "Night's falling and Kara and Anders are still out there. We need to go find them."

"She has a wireless," Leoben reminded him. "If she required help, she would let someone know."

"If she could," Helo snapped. "They've been gone hours. It's cold out and they don't have any supplies."

"They're not that far. They could walk back," Leoben said. "If they wanted to. Obviously they don't, so you need to respect that wish."

Helo glared at him. "I think after what you did, not respecting her wishes at all, you should shut up."

Leoben's expression tightened in irritation, as if he wanted to protest or defend his model, but he dropped it to respond, "Then I would think, as her friend, you would want to heed her wishes **more** , not less. And the last thing I think she would want is for some well-meaning friends to blunder into a difficult moment of reconciliation with her husband. Let them be."

"They're going to freeze out here," Helo protested.

Leoben shook his head, almost pityingly. "Despite the miracle of Hera, you still have no understanding of any of this, do you? Kara Thrace and Sam Anders are so much more than human, Karl Agathon. They should not even **exist** and yet they do -- and you are concerned that cold will kill them? You need to open your eyes to the greater pattern around you."

Sharon snorted. "More than human? When have Cylons been **more** than humans?"

"Kara is not a Cylon, as you would know, sister, if you were not so determined to ignore your true self," he retorted, then he faced Lee again. "Don't rescue people who don't wish to be rescued. They need to find their way to each other again; they are stronger together than apart. Do not take that from them. Or from the rest of us."

Then, warning delivered, he turned and walked away.

"You can't listen to him," Helo protested.

Lee looked after Leoben, frowning. "I thought he was all creepy obsessed with her. And now he wants to make sure she and Anders get back together. Odd."

"The Twos have always been strange," Sharon muttered.

"That doesn't make him wrong," Lee said. "I mean, I'm the last person I ever thought would be saying this, but Kara was right. We're living in strange times. Frak, I've known Tigh most of my **life** and he turns out to be not only a Cylon, he's sprouted frakking **wings**. I can't pretend there's anything rational and explainable about that. There's not. So I kind of think he's right," he nodded his chin in Leoben's direction. "And we should... get out of the way of whatever's going on. But at the same time, I certainly don't want to abandon two of our people on the planet, in case they get in trouble...."

Dee took a breath and suggested, "Why don't we leave them a Raptor with some supplies? If they make their way back to camp, they'll have gear, and I can set its wireless to relay even the weakest signal up to _Galactica_ if they need help."

Lee seized on it gratefully. "That's a great idea. We'll do that. I'll go tell the admiral the plan, and you get one of the Raptors set up."

He walked away, and Dee met the Agathons' gazes, and gave a little shrug. "It'll be okay, Helo."

For a moment, she wondered if he was going to accuse her of trying to keep Lee away from Starbuck, but then realized it was her own conscience when he shook his head and muttered, "They could call in and say they're okay."

Sharon took his hand and smiled a little. "Hon, I think it's a good sign nobody's called in or come back; that means no one's hurt. And they're probably busy. You know how they get."

Dee wanted to roll her eyes. Everybody knew that. Dee remembered from New Caprica when things had been good for everyone, and those two had been scarcely able to keep their hands off each other. But then she thought about what that meant today, and blurted, "But he's got wings!"

Sharon laughed. "You think that would stop Kara, if she decided she didn't care?"

"Well, no," Dee had to agree with that. There wasn't much that stopped Kara when she made up her mind about anything. "I'm going to set the wireless to relay to the ship."

The Agathons followed to check the survival gear on board, making sure there were blankets, a medical kit and some food.

All that was finished quickly, and soon everyone was on their way back up to the ships for the night.

* * *

When they arrived at _Galactica_ , they found the rumors had already spread, and the deck was crowded. President Roslin and the admiral shared a look, and then at Tigh, who shrugged. "Let's get this over with. Not like I can hide 'em."

"All right," she said. "Let me go first."

The Raptor hatch opened and the crowd fell momentarily quiet, before bursting out into frantic questions. Dee could hear them and shut her eyes. No one wanted to believe Earth was an irradiated wasteland, and Roslin was going to have to confirm that.

The Admiral stood at her side and Roslin lifted her chin, squaring her shoulders. Then when no one quieted, she held up both hands to try to get some silence, but didn't until the admiral called, "Attention on deck!"

That, at least, go the crew to shut up, and they quieted the civvies who'd gathered, until finally Roslin could speak.

"Let me confirm the terrible rumor first: Earth is not the refuge we had hoped," she declared. "We came here much too late. The Thirteenth Tribe settled here, and they built many cities and appeared to have lived ordinary lives like ours. But they were apparently too much like us, and some years ago, this planet suffered a nuclear war. We found no person alive, and their buildings are ruined and destroyed. The planet itself is still heavily contaminated, and ... " her voice choked for a moment, and she took a moment to continue, "and uninhabitable. We cannot live here."

A shocked and horrified noise spread through the people gathered there -- whispers and gasps and exclamations of anger and pain.

Roslin let it pass back into silence. "I know this is difficult news to hear. It was even worse to see."

"Where do we go now?" someone called out.

"We'll be staying here a little while to learn as much as we can about the people who lived and died here, and then we will leave, to search for a new home," Roslin answered.

"Search?" Narcho challenged. "With no course? No heading? Are we going to aimlessly wander through space?"

"Not aimless," she corrected. "It's possible when we investigate the planet, we might find proof that some of them left and went elsewhere. Maybe they left us a clue. Or perhaps the gods will take pity on us."

"The gods! The gods are a fake! The gods **lied** , and brought us here for nothing!" someone yelled.

Roslin winced, but then she turned her head back toward the Raptor's entrance and beckoned. "Not for nothing. Colonel Tigh."

Tigh inhaled a deep breath, muttered "Frak", and strode out to join Roslin and Adama on the wing of the Raptor. Then without a word, he opened his charcoal-colored wings out to their fullest span.

People gasped.

"The Cylons call them the Final Five, their cousins who were hidden from them," Roslin said loudly, over the noise, holding onto the Admiral's shoulder to keep herself steady. "They **changed** on the planet's surface, in some way that we can't understand. All four of them have wings, and one of them was able to fly. It was a moment of extraordinary hope -- a message to not give into despair, that even in a place of darkness, there is still the promise of change. We will find a new home; we will find our own Earth."

A few people clapped, but mostly everyone seemed stunned into silence. Roslin leaned closer to the admiral and murmured, "Get me out of here."

The admiral began escorting her out, and Tigh followed after, as the marines formed up, unsure what they were doing, until Tigh glared at them and they helped push through the crowd. Everyone burst into more questions and demands at all three of them, but eventually, they were gone.

Not all the crowd went with them though -- they seemed to be waiting for the other ships to unload. Lee glanced at Helo. "You're ranking officer on the deck. You should disperse the crowd."

"You're on the Quorum," Helo retorted.

Dee rolled her eyes. "Would one of you disperse the crowd so poor Galen and Tory can get off their ship without being mobbed?"

"They're going to have to learn to deal with it eventually," Sharon pointed out.

"Let's make it later," Helo said and got up. In the hatch way, he called out, "If you're not on duty here, go! This isn't a place to be lingering, people. Move out."

Hotdog was in front and turned ordering, "You heard the captain. Clear the deck. Crew needs to work."

Motivated into doing something, Fleet members started to move the civvies off the deck. Some went reluctantly, knowing there was more to see, but eventually, most of them were encouraged out. The last Raptor door depressurized, in front of a much smaller crowd of mostly deck hands and some pilots.

Skulls was the first off, and everyone on the floor ignored him, waiting for the Cylons. Finally, the Chief appeared in the hatch. He'd found one of the regulation tanks and made it fit by tearing open the back. Tory was wearing Caprica Six's black halter top, Dee saw, which fit her nicely and left room for the wings in the back. Caprica emerged behind them, her jacket zipped up to her chin.

"Chief!" Figursky exclaimed. "My gods, it's true."

"Can we see?" Brasko asked eagerly.

Galen and Tory exchanged a look and then, in tandem, spread their wings, like giant ravens alighting on the deck.

Silence fell for a moment, as everyone stared.

The murmured responses varied from the positive: "That's so beautiful..." To the neutrally curious: "So bizarre." "The gods are playing a cruel joke on us." To the hostile: "Cylon freaks."

Dee shot a look in that direction, but couldn't tell who'd said it. More than one person pointedly turned their backs.

She glanced to the side and saw Lee frowning. He caught her glance with his own and though he didn't speak, she could see they shared the same uneasiness.

With the Fleet pinning their hopes on Earth, it might not be very good for those very visible symbols of that hope's end.

 

* * *

Dee came back from her date with Lee, feeling remarkably calm and even happy, though that seemed like an odd thing when she realized how distinctly unhappy so much of the ship was. But one drink had turned into dinner, and talking for the first time in months.

He walked her to the hatch to crew quarters, and it was briefly awkward that he had to stop there now, but then she smiled. "You walking me home?" she teased.

He smiled back. "Feels like that." Then he hesitated. "Too early to kiss you goodnight?"

"I don't think we have to pretend to be strangers," she said and pulled him close for a light kiss. "Good night, Lee. See you tomorrow."

"Sleep well." He was waiting there, still smiling when she glanced outside, closing the hatch.

And she was humming as she went to her locker. She looked at the jacks on the shelf as she started undressing. _I'm sorry_ , she told that long-dead child, _but I thank you for bringing me this moment of happiness._

She heard Felix coming down the way, and wasn't surprised that he didn't share her feeling. "You're in a good mood," he observed, sourly, limping to his locker. "Cottle give you something?"

"No. Lee and I went on a date. It was fun."

"Fun?" he challenged. "Earth is frakking lie, and you went on a date with Apollo and it's 'fun'? He broke your heart, Dee, and he's a frakking toaster-lover and apologist, besides. How can you even look at him?"

She shut her eyes, trying to put away that feeling where she could take it out and feel it again later, then she turned to face her friend. "We're trying again."

"Because Starbuck decided she liked to frak her pet toaster better, after all? Come on, Dee, you're better than taking what she doesn't want anymore."

She stiffened. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."

"Why? It's true, isn't it? You told me as much."

"What's between me and Lee, or isn't, has nothing to do with Kara. And is none of your business besides." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I know things are rough for you, I understand that. And while I don't know exactly what happened on the _Demetrius_ , it doesn't take a genius to figure out you blame Kara and everyone else who came back with her, including the rebel Cylons. But you've got to let it go."

"If you really understood, you would never say that," he answered.

Her expression softened and she held out a hand, but he dodged her touch. "Felix, you're still my friend. I care about you. I know Louis cares about you, too. This anger is going to eat you alive. We're all pawns of forces greater than ourselves -- Kara and Anders and Helo and all of them, even more so than us. It's not their fault."

His jaw was still clenched and he took a moment to say anything, and when he did, it wasn't in answer to her comment. "I heard Anders actually flew. Did he?"

She couldn't help a smile. "He did. Right overhead. It was one of the most amazing things I've ever seen. Those four are some other kind of Cylon. Baltar said they might not even be Cylons at all, they're so different."

"Baltar," Felix muttered in disgust and sat down on his rack to remove his brace, rubbing at his leg. She couldn't see Felix's face but had the feeling she hadn't helped anything.

She took a breath and added, "Like the president said, we might find out the Thirteenth Tribe escaped the devastation and went somewhere else. Or the gods might give us a sign to a new home. After what I saw, Felix, I can't believe this is all there is."

"It is, Dee. All that's left of humanity is sitting on these ships. There's no Earth, there's no salvation," Felix murmured, staring at his stump. "Only Cylons guiding us to extinction."

"No," she disagreed softly. "That's not true. You'll see."

She wished she could share her newfound hope with Felix, and bit her lip in helpless frustration as she watched him struggle into his rack. Maybe once he saw for himself, he'd understand better.

* * *

 

Kara stirred at dawn, the unfamiliar bright sunlight filtering into her eyes. She was cozy warm, curled up with Sam spooned tightly behind her with his heavy arm over her waist and his breath on her hair. Her nose tickled and she reached up to rub it, to find the edge of a feather against her face.

The reminder woke her up back to alertness.

Feathers. Wings.

Her corpse.

It all tumbled through her head, reminding her of yesterday's overwhelming strangeness, and she scrambled out from under Sam's arm and the shelter of his wing into the cold air. He muttered, stirring, but fell back asleep.

Barefoot, she moved to the burnt-out remains of the fire and folded her arms. There was little left beyond the soot-covered metal bits of the flightsuit and what might be charred bone among the pieces of charcoal. She tried not to look too closely as she took deliberate breaths to calm her suddenly racing heart.

"Why did you do this to me?" she whispered to the gods. "Why did she call me the harbinger of death? What does it mean?" But there was no answer.

She kicked a piece of wood that had fallen away from the main pile and turned to get the hell away from this place. She grabbed her clothes from where they'd fallen and dressed. She'd go back to camp where things were normal. Sam could go back to the other Cylons, where he should be, and she would go back to her duty, and they could forget any of this had happened.

But when she put her hands through her jacket sleeves and looked for her boots, her eyes fell on Sam, still sleeping on the foil blanket. The dawn's light fell on the wings softly, making them shimmer. She remembered what they looked like at full span, how shocking but beautiful, and she remembered the broken uncertainty in his eyes, as he had turned to go, believing she was rejecting him.

If she gave it to him now, by leaving, it would end them. Unlike before, if she pushed this time, the bubble of their relationship would break. They were both too uncertain, too fragile. Always before, Sam had understood it wasn't him; this time, he would know it was. And she didn't think he'd push back either. There had to be some limit to how many times he would beat his head against a brick wall. He'd give up on her.

Maybe that would be a good thing; if she was the harbinger of death, maybe keeping him away from her was a smart idea.

But wasn't she tired of running away? She'd run from Lee on a morning much like this, and while it had led to a year of having Sam every day, and she couldn't regret that, she did regret how she'd screwed all of them up afterward.

This time, running away might screw up more than three lives. If Sam was right about their 'destinies' being unfinished, the whole damn Fleet might be depending on these two broken people to keep their crazy under control.

"Damn it." She let out a sigh, realizing she'd talked herself into staying. She sat on a corner of the blanket, tucked her hands around her drawn up knees, and looked at the ashes and dead coals that remained of the fire.

Sam woke soon after, trying to roll onto his back and groaning.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," she greeted cheerfully.

He opened his eyes blearily. "'morning. Gods, do I feel kinda horrible..." he muttered. He stretched, as if he was painfully stiff.

Kara watched, enjoying the show. One thing that was nice about the new wings, was the new body that went with it. Sam had been in shape before, but he'd gotten more muscular in the upper body and leaner everywhere else. Watching him move made her want to lick him all over those newly defined muscles.

He found the tip of one wing next to him and grimaced with a sour twist of his mouth. "Damn, I was hoping that was a bad dream." He sat up and shook his shoulders, making the wings fall behind him, trailing on the ground. Then he shook them again as if dissatisfied, got to his feet, and spread them out in a big stretch. Her lips twitched with amusement -- his eyes were closed, and his expression seemed positively orgasmic. The rest of him seemed to agree.

After drawing in a deep breath and opening his eyes again, he caught her look and folded up the wings quickly, as if he was embarrassed. "Uh. Everything's kind of cramped and stiff."

Kara's eyes deliberately raked down the front of his body, and she grinned. "I can tell. You wanna do something about that?"

He looked down and kind of smirked. It was too bad that he was used to locker rooms, too, and nakedness wasn't embarrassing to him. He lifted his eyes back to hers and noted with disappointment, "You got dressed."

"It was cold." She got up and approached, putting a little more sway in her walk. "But easily remedied for my favorite Cylon birdman. Bird Cylon. Whatever." She shucked her jacket on the way.

"Favorite birdman?" He snickered and held out his hands for hers. "I'm glad to hear I rank higher than Saul and Galen."

"Oh, it's no contest," she agreed and lifted her face for his mouth. Her hands slid all over his skin, as he tugged at her clothes impatiently. He finally got a hand down her underwear and she let out a satisfied sound, as his fingers caressed her until she was shivering with a need for more.

"Down," he murmured, "let me do this right."

"I'm gonna complain?" she teased and stretched out on their blanket, so he could use that expert touch to send her shuddering into climax. But she didn't want to rest afterward, she wanted more. "C'mon, baby," she coaxed. He didn't need much persuading, pushing between her opened legs, deep and true, hard enough to make her gasp.

He held out until she was panting and quivering with the heat he raised inside her, and she noticed absently that even the wings were held out a little ways and then frozen in place, but vibrating with tension.

Then conscious thought dissolved as the sweet nothing rocked through her. She called his name, fingers tightening to claws on his shoulders.

Then with a final snap of his hips, he followed her, with a somewhat dazed look in his eyes. He bent down to kiss her in gratitude, trying to catch his breath. She loosened her grip on his shoulders to pull him down on top of her, breathing him in.

She shut her eyes and murmured, "I almost was gonna leave. I was gonna run away."

He took a moment to answer, and his hand never paused in its idle caress of her side down to her hip and back up. "What changed your mind?"

"Because ... it would break us," she answered. "And I don't want that. I know I'm a terrible wife to you -- "

"Kara--" he lifted his head as if he was going to object.

She opened her eyes and insisted, "It's true. I know it. I've been selfish and mean, and I've hurt you."

He set a finger across her lips, and his eyes were serious and a little concerned. "Kara, losing you was the greatest hurt you've ever done to me. The rest of it? Doesn't matter. If I'd wanted out, I could have left."

Which was true, but not all the truth, she knew that. She had hurt him and he had been angry, but he'd waited for her to come around with a patience she couldn't understand. "You scare me sometimes," she whispered. "Any normal person would've given up long ago."

He smiled. "First, I don't give up easily, and not on you. I know it takes you awhile to figure things out. And second, "normal"?" He shifted more upright and spread the wings out, so they stretched over his head.

It startled her into a laugh. "Okay, okay."

He relaxed back down again and stroked her cheek with his hand. "We're not normal, Kara. I never was, it turns out, and I don't think you were either. But we're still us."

She closed her eyes, feeling his fingers move down her throat to her shoulder. His touch always helped her feel real, especially after she'd come back, but even way back on Caprica that first time, the feel of his skin against hers had made her feel more centered, more like herself. "I feel like me."

"You feel like you, to me, too," he agreed, and his finger traced her tattoo. "Together til the end," he said, but it tilted up into a question, and proved he was not quite as sure as he wanted to be.

She looked into his eyes and promised, "And after." Then she curled her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss.

The sun seemed brighter and warmer this morning. Lying on the hard ground, and Sam like a heavy blanket on top, was familiar and made her smile.

"What?" he asked.

"Reminds me of New Caprica," she said. "When we went exploring, and got sand down our pants and the water was barely above freezing..."

"Mm, that was fun," he agreed. "Had you all to myself..." He nuzzled at her neck playfully, tickling her with his unshaven chin, but then a strange noise made them both freeze. Their eyes met, and she realized from the chagrined look on his face, what it had been. She burst into laughter, as he sat up.

"Someone would like breakfast," she teased.

"Starving," he agreed with a wry look and patted his stomach. "One ration bar isn't enough after flying, I don't think."

"Or sex," she reminded him. "Twice."

"That, too. Though it was a good exchange," he teased and leaned down to kiss her some more. "You must be getting hungry, too. They're going to send a search party for us pretty soon. Leoben can only hold them off so long."

She made a face, but had to agree. He found his undershorts and then wrapped the blanket around himself after shaking it out, and she put her clothes back on again. While she was putting on her boots, she watched as he looked out to the water and started combing his fingers through the feathers.

Even after she had the boots tied, she stayed on the rock, watching. He seemed to be doing it instinctively, arranging them back into smooth perfection again after being ruffled by sleep and sex. But then, even though he tried to bring the wing forward far enough, he simply couldn't reach the part at the middle of his back.

"And that's how we know you're not a bird," she told him, making him start with surprise as though he'd forgotten she was there. "You can't groom them alone. Can I help?"

He twitched his shoulders. "It itches," he complained, and turned to let her see his back. "I can feel one of them's wrong, but I can't reach it."

It still made her stomach roil with the strangeness, seeing how the wings came out of his skin, bone covered with skin and feathers, and the hard tendons that moved them underneath. Even the bones of his back were different, as if his shoulder-blades had become some other structure.

But the feathers were soft to the touch, and she discovered tiny downy ones in the hollow between, along his spine. She could see Sam relax as she petted the feathers. "Feels good?" she murmured. He made a wordless murmur of agreement. She leaned very close to whisper in his ear, her hands making long strokes along the bones where she'd learned they were most sensitive, "One of these days we'll have to find out if I can make you come, touching these..."

He shuddered and she smirked. Then he tried to retort, but his voice was hoarse so it lost some its snappy comeback quality, "I love it when you make dirty promises, because I know if you say you'll do something, you'll do it, right?"

"That's right." One last lingering caress and her lips on the back of his neck, and she pulled away. "Feel better?"

He snapped the wings back in and turned to grin at her. "I do. Thank you."

"I didn't sign on to be a bird groomer when I agreed to marry you," she teased.

But he took it far too seriously. His grin faded, and he looked down. "No, you didn't. I'm sorry-- I shouldn't --"

"Sam," she snapped, hands on her hips. "Quit it. Do you think I'd do it if I didn't want to?" she challenged. "Okay? I wanted to - I was kidding. You were a lot better figuring out when I'm trying to be funny, before," she grumped at him.

"Yeah, well, that was before," he muttered. "I sprouted frakking wings yesterday; it's all a little too new to find it funny yet."

"All right, all right, but it is kinda funny," she sighed, then her lips twitched upward, unable to resist it. "The puppy dog face is killing me."

He turned his face toward her, giving her the most pitiful expression she could imagine -- she laughed. "Oh, now you're trying too hard."

He lifted his face and smiled, then his expression got serious again. "Look, I know you wouldn't do it if you didn't want to. But I don't get why you'd want to."

She frowned at him and held out her hand to brush the edge of his wings. "Why wouldn't I?" she murmured. "They're part of you. I'd be lying if I didn't say they're bizarre, because this whole situation is frakking unreal, but... it also feels right, in some way. I mean, you and I are obviously in this -- whatever the hell 'this' is -- up to our necks. We even have the tattoos," she brushed his right arm, along the inked wing. He twitched, looking down at it, and his brow creased as if he hadn't thought about the tattoo in relation to his new wings before. Then she smiled a little wryly. "Besides, coming back from the dead still trumps wings in the weird shit department, sorry."

He chuckled and put an arm over her shoulder. "You think so? Seems to me coming back from the dead is pretty common." She stiffened in protest, and then realized how idiotic it was to argue over that, like it was some gods-damned competition for who had the most frakked-up life. He pulled her near and kissed her hair. They stayed like that another moment, until she heard another noisy complaint next to her. Sam put a hand to his stomach, as if chiding it for being so loud, and shook his head ruefully. "We better go find the rest of the crew."

She felt reluctant. Her connection to Sam felt strong right now, and she didn't want to screw it up by involving other people. But it was time; he needed food, and she could use some, too, even if she wasn't quite as eager to eat survival rations as he was.

"I kinda like it here," she murmured. "But yeah."

They started back toward the landing area, through the low scrubby trees. The dawn light cast a pinkish glow over everything and it was quiet, except the sound of the breeze in the grass and their own movement. Sam's hand slipped over hers and she laced her fingers with his, not looking at him. She could see out of the corner of her eye that he wasn't looking at her either.

She smiled to herself. Funny -- it had been only a short time ago she'd been staring at Sam in horrified disbelief at the news that he was a Cylon. Now that news seemed like the least of the mysteries surrounding her.

She still got a little fluttery, angry feeling in her stomach trying to put together 'Sam' with 'Cylon', but the wings changed things a lot, because he was clearly some other kind.

But more importantly, he was still her Sam, and he believed she was still Kara.

* * *

They returned to the landing site, finding it deserted except for a single Raptor. She'd heard some of them leave last night, but hadn't expected them **all** to leave. "They left us all on our own. I don't know whether to be glad or pissed about that." She opened the hatch, finding a survival kit prominently in the middle of the floor. Inside, she found more rations and pitched two packages to Sam, who was standing at the opening. "Here, catch."

He snagged both out of the air easily and tore into one. She grabbed another and settled down to eat it and inspect the rest of the box. There were medical supplies, water, and more blankets. She threw Sam one of the water packets as well, and watched as he drained it in only a few gulps.

Only when he lowered the empty container and caught her eye, did he look chagrined. "Did you want some? Sorry."

She waved it away. "I have my own. But you should come in, it's warmer out of the breeze."

"I'm good," he said, which was unconvincing when the wings were open to block the wind from his body.

For a moment she thought he might be hesitant to come near her, but realized it was something else, when he glanced back over his shoulder as if he heard something.

"Sam? What is it?" she asked when he did it a second time.

"What? Oh, I -- I left my flightsuit at the base of the bridge. I should go get it. Even if I'm not wearing it again."

She flashed a grin, imaging in the sight. It was already funny enough, watching him stuff himself into the cockpit. They'd have to cut the Viper apart to get him out if he shoved the wings in there, too. "Yeah. I don't think those wings will fit in a cockpit."

"No," he agreed, a little sadly. "I don't think so. But at least I could wear the bottom half again. I think I'll go get it."

He turned and started away, without another word.

She called after him, "Okay. I'll... stay here where it's warm. Moron." Then she heaved a sigh and decided to do something useful while he was wandering around. She sat in the pilot's chair and flicked on the wireless. " _Galactica_ , Starbuck. Do you read?"

The answer was prompt, in Hoshi's voice. " _Starbuck, Galactica. Sitrep_?"

"Condition green, _Galactica_ ," she reported. "Myself and Longshot. Requesting further instructions."

After a moment, Hoshi told her, " _Hold position, Starbuck. Landing party is inbound to the surface in twenty_."

"Wilco, _Galactica_. Starbuck out."

She flicked off the wireless. While she waited for Sam to come back, she grabbed another blanket out of the supply box and tried to cut out a poncho of sorts for Sam to wear. The results demonstrated her utter lack of clothing design skill, since it was ugly as hell, but hopefully it would keep him warm. He hadn't come back by the time she finished, and so she decided to go find him.

He was nowhere in sight. "Sam!" she called, but didn't hear any answer. "Sam!"

She headed for the bridge, since he'd said he was going that way. But when she was about halfway, motion above caught her eye.

He was standing on the bridge deck, a pale grey ghost against the grey sky. He had the wings spread wide, as if feeling the wind, and he seemed to be waiting for something.

Then he jumped.

Her heart seemed to rise into her throat as he fell. The wings came down, beating furiously, but to no apparent effect, and she wanted to yell at him that he needed more thrust, or change his angle of attack, or **something** , or gravity was going to slam him into the water.

He was going to die, right there, right in front of her eyes. She was going to lose him on the same morning she'd realized how much she wanted him to stay.

Intending to scream, her voice emerged as a choked whisper of denial: "No."

But then, the wings caught the air, and he skimmed the water, nearly touching it. He rose higher out into the bay where the early morning light shimmered golden on his graceful flight. It was gorgeous, and for that moment, while she watched, she felt both a piercing longing to join him and a seething jealousy that he had this perfect flight, when she didn't.

He made a slow turn and headed back. He saw her from far away and angled in her direction, slowing until Kara was sure he would stall.

She stared, breath stopping again as he abruptly pulled up and backwinged to land on top of the crumbling wall in front of her, about two meters up.

He was grinning with triumph. "Did you see? Did you see?" he demanded, with excitement that made him look like a little boy. "It's so awesome, Kara. It was even better that time, and I --"

Then the wall collapsed out from under him and he fell with a cry and a crash of broken masonry.

"Sam!" She rushed forward. He was on his side, concrete fragments around and on top of him. "Gods, are you okay?" she demanded then said sharply as he stirred, "No, wait, don't move. Let me move some of this off you." There was one chunk as big as a medical kit on top of his wing and she knelt down to pick it up and pitch it aside. She moved a couple more out of the way. "There, I think you're clear now."

"Frak. I... I think I'm okay." He sat up gingerly and coughed. "Gods, what the hell happened?"

"The wall broke." She leaned in, looking more closely at the scrapes and cuts to make sure none were deep. The worst one seemed to be a cut on his forehead at his hairline, dripping blood down the side of his face. "Gods, Sam, you barely cleared the water. I thought you were going to hit. What the frak were you thinking?" she demanded furiously.

He thought about it for a long silent moment, and answered wistfully, "Showing you how wonderful it is."

She let out a breath and shook her head at him, thumbing away the blood at his temple. "You **are** just like me, you idiot. Throwing yourself off the frakking bridge, like some gods-damned baby **pigeon**."

He grinned back at her, unrepentant. "But it was great."

"Except for the part with the falling," she reminded him, and he winced.

He climbed to his feet and extended his wings slowly, and she held her breath, praying nothing was broken. He didn't appear to have any pain, only feathers askew and covered with dust and sand. He started to comb his fingers through them again to get them to lay properly.

She heaved a sigh. "Can't blame you, I guess. You should've seen the stupid shit I did at the academy, when I was learning to fly."

"'Did'?" he repeated mocking.

"Difference is, **rook** , I know what I'm doing," she corrected, trying to be stern, but that was impossible when he was rearranging his damn **feathers**. "You, on the other hand, keep trying to get yourself killed."

"I am not," he protested, shooting her an affronted glance.

She rolled her eyes and started to help him by petting the back ones into place again. "You gonna shed these all over the shower?" she demanded when a little one came off on her fingers. Then she thought about what she was saying -- flying was all very well, but _Galactica_ wasn't going to stay here. They'd have to think about the practicalities of how Sam was going to live on the ship: showers, clothing, sleeping... "I think we need to put in for married quarters. There's no way you're gonna fit in my rack."

His motion stilled, and he looked at his hands for a moment, as if shocked by her spontaneous words. They hadn't had official married quarters since New Caprica. Even on the Demetrius, the cabin had never been 'theirs', something she was suddenly acutely aware of, as his gaze flickered.

"I ... don't know," he answered finally, not looking at her. "The ship's crowded. There might not be space. And since I can't be a pilot any more, there's no reason for the admiral to let me stay on the ship at all."

She had done this, she knew, watching him try so desperately to make it sound like it didn't matter. Like he couldn't risk hoping for something that wasn't going to come true.

But it would, she was determined. She answered, "Of course he's going to let you stay. He'd let you stay without me, because there's no way he's letting you leave _Galactica_ 's protection," she reminded him. "Unless you want to go to the baseship, it's safest on the Big G. You know that. But that doesn't matter, because you're my husband, and I think it's about time we get what we would've gotten after New Caprica, if I hadn't been so frakked up. There will **be** space," she vowed softly, grabbing his shoulder so he had to look at her, and staring into his eyes so he would see she meant every single word. "If I have to carve it out of the frakking hull, I will find a space for us. I made a promise and I'm not letting go, Mister Samuel T. Anders. Not this time."

His eyes were so blue in this light, but wary, as if he couldn't trust her words anymore. But then, why should he, when she'd thrown it in his face so many times that those vows she'd once made to him were worth so little?

She wrapped her other hand lightly around the wing bone, trying to explain why things were going to be different this time. "You fell, Sam. You fell, and if you'd hit the water, you'd be dead. I can't ... I can't let you slip through my fingers because I wasn't paying attention, or I was too frakking scared of what it means. The stakes are too high; for you, for me, for everybody. I don't know what you are, I don't know what I am-- but that makes us the same. I see that now. You're still Sam. And that's the part that matters."

He didn't answer for a moment. He bit his lip, and he pulled her into his arms and held her tight against him. Then he inhaled an unsteady breath. "I ... I would like to share a cabin again," he whispered, resting his cheek on her hair. "But have you thought about this, Kara? It could be... hard."

"Living with you is not that hard," she scoffed. "Except I might be late for duty a lot since I'll be too busy jumping you all the time." Her fingers skimmed the muscles of his flanks and the ridges of heavy tendons beneath the skin, where the wings attached, caressing downward.

He smiled briefly but shook his head. "No, that's not what I mean. People are going to blame me for this place not being what they were promised."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's not your fault -- it's certainly no more your fault than it is mine. It was my frakking Viper that led us here," she reminded him. "And anyone who wants a piece of you is gonna have to come through me first, that much I promise. Nobody touches a hair on your head or a -- a feather on your wings--" She stopped and blinked. "And I can't believe those words are coming out of my mouth."

He chuckled. "Yeah, tell me about it." He kissed her, and this time she could feel he was more relaxed beneath her touch, as if he was letting himself believe her now.

When she forced herself back from him, she scrounged on the ground for the blanket thing she'd made. "Here, try this."

He eyed it dubiously, but put his head through the hole she indicated, and put it on. She waited for him to laugh, as he pulled it around the right way for the other slit to go in the back, but then he nodded and smiled at her. "Better, thanks."

"It's ugly, I know," she said, "but at least it might keep you from freezing your ass off. We'll have to figure out a better way to deal with your clothes. But now, since you obviously can't be allowed on your own or you fall off things, we'll go find your jocksmock together. We're supposed to get company soon."

He made a face of disappointment at that, but led the way through the ruins toward the bridge.

When he found the suit, she didn't like the way his gaze wandered upward to the bridge pillar looming above them, and she smacked his shoulder. "No, not again."

"No," he agreed with a sigh. "I'm too tired." He put on the bottom half of the flightsuit and cinched his belt, making Kara aware again of how much thinner he'd become. It occurred to her to wonder how fragile his bones had become to allow him to fly, and she felt a little sick remembering the wall crumbling out from under him.

"I know it's fun, Sam, and I know you still have those 'play through the pain' instincts from pyramid, but take it slow," she urged. "If you get injured you might not fly again, and I can tell you'd miss it already."

She'd never expected that Sam would become a pilot in the first place. She'd never even considered it, until she'd seen him on the deck in this flightsuit. But this was the first time she'd seen him have the same joy in flying that she felt, and she didn't want that to end too soon.

"Yeah, I would." He turned his face toward the sky - at first, she thought he was remembering his flights, and then she heard the low whine of the landing party coming back. Four Raptors and two Heavy Raiders soon came into view and their peace was broken by the roar of the engines.

"Come on," he said, when they'd both watched the ships land to the south. "Let's go see what's going on."

 

* * *

 

Dee had been prepared to give the admiral any number of reasons why she should go back down to the planet. The true reason was wanting to see Sam fly again, but she thought she should have better reasons than that. But it turned out to be unnecessary, as he sent her to coordinate the research effort with Lee.

But she nodded sharply and was grateful for the order.

On the surface, the air was brisk, but it was less cloudy than the day before and a little warmer.

To her disappointment, she saw that Sam was walking, not flying. But she was glad to see he was walking beside Kara, and they were laughing about something as they approached.

"Tell me you have food!" Kara called when she was still several steps away. "This overgrown sparrow here has eaten every single ration in the case you left for us."

"Sparrow?" he mock glared at her. "I thought being called a frakking pigeon was bad, now I get 'sparrow'?"

"More like a duck," Dee blurted unthinking, then found herself the focus of both Kara and Sam's gaze -- Sam looked more amused than Kara, who looked suspicious, as if Dee was mocking him. "We had these ducks back home - they were grey and white. And when they flew, they looked like your wings."

"Guess I'd rather be a duck than a sparrow," Sam said, and ignored Kara when she muttered something that sounded like 'pigeon' at him.

"What was it like?" Dee asked him. "It looked like fun."

"It is. Like all the good parts of flying a Viper, but feeling the wind and -- and I don't know," he shrugged. "I'm going to miss it when we have to leave."

"Yeah, so why'd you guys come back?" Kara asked them. "We can't live here."

"To figure out what happened," Lee answered. "Maybe find out if some of them survived and went somewhere. They had to have spaceflight to get here, so it's the president's hope that some of them escaped and founded a new settlement."

Sam's smile turned brittle. "Yeah, more breadcrumbs across the galaxy. Wonderful."

Lee shifted at Dee's side in clear discomfort. "Well, at least we can find out what happened. Unless you know?"

Sam shrugged. "It got nuked. It seemed to be a surprise. That's all I know."

"You sound like you don't want to know?" Lee asked.

Sam's gaze lifted to scan the ruins. "No," he murmured. "I saw Caprica burn. I don't want to remember another one. I don't want to look around this place and be able to see it as it was, filled with people I knew. The ruins are bad enough."

He walked away, trailing a hand across a fallen wall. Kara watched him for a little ways and then turned back. "This place sucks," she stated. "I think we should get the frak out of here and back on the road."

"But road to where?" Dee asked. "We don't have a road. That's what we're here to look for. Do you have some idea? Or feeling, or something? Like you did before?"

Kara snorted. "Yeah, and that turned out so well last time. But no, whatever it was before, it's gone."

"Then we have to do it the hard way," Lee shrugged. "Cylons are here. We're going to start digging."

He started away, but Kara held Dee back with a quiet word of her name. "What's it like on the Bucket and in the fleet, after the news?"

"People are shocked, disappointed...." She saw Kara glance toward Sam and realized that wasn't the part Kara wanted to know. "Some people were amazed by the wings. Others thought they were freaks. The reaction seemed pretty mixed. I think most people are still in shock."

Kara nodded. "Thanks."

* * *

 

Relieved by Dee's report, Kara went looking for Sam. He'd gone out of sight, and though she wouldn't have thought giant wings would be easy to hide, it still took her a moment to find him.

He was on the beach, and he was holding something in his hand, standing very still, lost in thought as she clomped across the hard sand toward him. He realized she was there and said without looking away from the thing in his hand. "This was mine. I was playing it right before the bombs fell."

She frowned, not able to figure out what he was holding.

"I know it was that song," he continued in a low murmur, more to himself than to her. "Why do I know that, but not know how I got to the Colonies? Why do I remember going to school, having parents, when I know it has to be a lie? Cylons don't have parents. Why is this thing all I remember from here? Why did nothing else survive, but this did?"

He held it up by one end and she thought she recognized the long, flat thing. "Is that a part of a guitar?"

"I've never had a lesson that I remember," he murmured, "but I know how to play it." He lifted his face to hers, with something desperate shining there. "I need to find a guitar in the fleet. I don't care what I have to trade to get it, I need to find one. I think -- " he licked his lips, "I know it sounds crazy, but I think if I play it, I can remember."

"Hey, trust me, I know crazy, and you're not," she teased. But then, seeing he still seemed anxious, she nodded. "All right, we'll look for one. There might be one on _Galactica_ , though I don't think I've seen one since New Caprica. There's that piano in Joe's. Would that help?"

He shook his head. "No. I don't think so. It has to be this." He tucked the fragment into his flightsuit pocket and zipped it up.

"I thought you didn't want to remember."

He cast his gaze out to the ruins on the opposite shore and sighed. "I don't, not this part. But if there's more stuck in my head, I have to know the truth. At least when I thought I was a sleeper Cylon like Boomer, this made more sense. I hated it, but at least it made sense. But right now I feel like I'm in a fog, and I don't understand anything."

"You and me both, baby," she murmured.

He folded her hand around hers and squeezed. "I know. At least we're in this together, and maybe we can figure out some way out of it."

"If there's a way out."

"Oh, there must be some way --" He stopped abruptly, but she didn't think to ask what was wrong. His faith in a purpose to everything hit her again and she shook her head, suddenly angered that he was giving the gods all this faith they didn't deserve in the slightest.

"Don't you get tired of it?" she demanded, pulling free and twisting around to confront him. "I mean, gods, Sam, frakking **wings**? How is that not ridiculous and even cruel? And I find a copy of my corpse? Why us? Why do we get the gods-damned frakking destiny and all that shit, when we never asked for any of it?"

He paused. "I hope that's a rhetorical question. The gods don't have to ask us for permission to frak around in our lives. It's kind of... reassuring, actually."

She stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown another head or was talking in a language she didn't understand. "What? 'Reassuring'? Why?"

He glanced toward the sun and the play of the light on the water. "Makes me feel more human. If the gods are messing with me, then it seems to imply I have a soul."

His doubt of that very fundamental fact hit her somewhere deep, and she snapped, "Of course you have a soul, don't be stupid."

His head swung back to look at her, his eyes sparking with a sudden anger of his own. "Cylon, remember? Humans don't believe Cylons have souls. Because they're -- we're -- 'just machines'," he finished, bitterly.

"Only morons believe that," she retorted.

"Says the woman who said she'd put a bullet in my head if she found out I was a Cylon."

The reminder of her reckless words stung. She hadn't believed it was possible; she'd only been mocking his easy acceptance of the possibility of her being one. She groaned and rolled her eyes. "Frakking hell, Sam, are you not over that yet? It was a joke. Because I didn't do it, when I found out, right? No, instead I listened to you, and I found the signal, and I raced all the way across the ship to save your ass. I didn't mean it when I said it, and I certainly don't mean it now that it turned out to be true. And while I can't deny it freaked me out and I wondered if you'd been lying to me the whole time, I know better." She'd known better the minute she thought about it at all, because she'd seen the exact moment he had started to lie to her about it -- when she'd said those hasty words.

She inhaled a breath and finished truthfully, "It doesn't seem that important anymore. You are who you were before."

"Am I?" he countered. There was a haunted look to his eyes that, in hindsight, she remembered seeing on _Demetrius_. "I don't know if that's true. I don't **know** who I was. I don't know who the Anders who played guitar was. I don't even know if that was **me**. Maybe it's someone else's fragment of memory I got through some frakked up download. I don't know. And I can't-- I can't live like this, Kara. I thought I could, but I have to find out what's real."

She opened her mouth to protest that she was real, and then shut it again. She wasn't, was she? Kara Thrace, daughter of Dreilide and Socrata, was dead. Whatever she was, she wasn't the real Kara.

Wrapped in his own confusion as he was, he still noticed the look on her face and grabbed her shoulders in a tight grip. "I didn't mean you. You're real. And I'm real. But my memories aren't. I remember things that can't be true. There's a real history I need to find."

She glanced at the pocket keeping the guitar piece. Sam hadn't known how to play guitar before, and now he did. Somehow that was more unsettling than growing wings. "But what if you remember?" she whispered. "What does that do to **my** Sam? "

He framed her face in both hands, in that way he had of making sure he could look in her eyes. "I will always love you, Kara," he reassured her. "That's the most real thing in my whole life; that's the thing I hold onto when everything else is frakked up and strange. Even when you were gone, and everything I knew got turned upside down, that's what I tried to remember."

She put her hands around his waist and held him tight, as their lips clung together, fierce in their need.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam hadn't want to leave the planet, but after some pointed reminders from Kara that it was still contaminated and he was getting a heavier exposure than was good for him, especially given his time on Caprica, he finally agreed to return to the _Galactica_.

He was restless on the Raptor as it went up, tapping his fingers. "Hey, settle down," Kara put a hand on his leg, where he was twitching. "There's nothing to worry about. People are gonna stare, but you're used to that, right? Mister Famous Pyramid celebrity?"

"I don't care about that." He shifted in the seat, seeming uncomfortable with his wings folded as flat as possible. He looked around the narrow confines of the Raptor. "I don't like being stuck in here. Or being bound up in the harness."

She eyed him, curious by the sudden anxiety. Apparently the wings weren't only a physical change. "You weren't claustrophobic before."

"I've never liked being on a ship," he answered. "But now I'm feeling very... trapped." He inhaled a deep breath, shutting his eyes to try to calm down.

She rubbed his thigh, trying to soothe him. "We're almost there."

He opened the harness and stood up before they landed, despite Kara's telling him to sit down, and he punched the door open the instant they were on the deck. He jumped out to meet with the gathering deck hands.

"Can we see yours, too?" Brasko asked, her face bright and eager.

"Sure," he started and then looked up, gauging the height of the deck. "I can do you one better. I can show you."

"Can you?" Brasko exclaimed in delight. "Really?"

He started toward the ladders. "No!" Kara called out, running after him. "No, you are **not** doing this. There's not enough air --"

He turned to face her, blue eyes alight, "I'm going to glide down. It'll be fine." He stripped off the poncho and shoved it at her to hold, then hurried to the ladder.

"If you break your neck, I'm going to laugh at you!" she called after him, irritated and worried.

"I can do it!" his voice floated down to her as he started up the ladder.

She watched him climb, and then Brasko came up to her. "Is it that dangerous?" she asked.

Kara snapped her head around, glaring. "It's stupid and reckless, and he's going to get hurt."

Brasko was troubled now. "I didn't mean to--" she started apologetically.

Kara relented, seeing her distress, "It's not your fault he's a moron."

She noticed there was a crowd gathering, including people from the tent city on the other end of the deck. They were all watching Sam climb the ladder to the top catwalk.

But they were in the way and she went over to them and started to urge people to move, some of them with bodily shoves when they didn't move fast enough. "Clear the deck. Move back. For frak's sake, I know you want to watch, but give him some room to land. Get the frak out of the way."

Then, it was time to turn around and look up. He'd reached the top, a small figure so high, but at half the height of the bridge, not nearly high enough. He moved out to the middle of the beam, checked his clearance and unfurled his wings.

There was no wind, though she thought there might be some air movement because of the hot air being pulled into the vents. His wings tasted whatever currents there were, pinions spread, and then the wings moved in giant flapping arcs stirring the air more. Abruptly, he jumped outward.

Heart in her throat, she watched him fall. All around her shocked gasps rose like a wave. But the pinions locked to one another and both wings curved like a parachute to catch the air, and when they came down he got lift, nearly stopping his fall. Then the great wings beat again, sending gusts of wind across the deck, and his feet touched the ground.

She winced as he landed hard and stumbled, all the grace of his flight turned to land-bound clumsiness. But he recovered in a few steps and straightened, shooting her a definite "so there!" look. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. "Frakking show-off," she muttered.

A group came up to him eager to touch and exclaim over the wings, and it looked exactly like people gathering around for an autograph. She thought he'd enjoy it, recalling his celebrity days, but it didn't take a full minute before his head lifted above the crowd and found her. His expression was wide-eyed and anxious, as if he hadn't expected the enthusiastic reaction or the people pressing in on him.

Heaving a sigh, she went to extract him. "Come on, people, we've got ship's business. Can't linger here all day."

Pulling on Sam's hand, she got them into the corridor and gave him back his shirt. About to give him a piece of her mind for frightening her with the stunt, she held her tongue when she noticed that he was fumbling with the shirt, unable to find the opening. His wings were partly open and rustling together, as if he couldn't still them. She wrapped her fingers around his hand -- he was trembling. "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said automatically, but then added, more quietly, "Everyone was friendly, but they kept **touching** me. And grabbing and pulling... it hurt. And I couldn't get free. I thought I was going to be sick." He swallowed hard and wouldn't look at her. "Gods. Kara, I'm such a freak."

She thought about how he'd reacted when she'd caressed his wings, and rested her hand on his bare arm, stroking lightly. "Baby, they were pawing you. They didn't realize how sensitive you are." She nudged him with her hip and tried to tease him into a better mood, "I think we should keep that kind of touching between us."

He gave a half-smile and let out a long breath, trying to relax. "Good idea. I should talk to the others; see if they're getting panic attacks for no reason, too." He grimaced, looking disgusted at himself.

Kara smiled and patted his arm. "Sam, you've flown in the open air. I don't think it's weird to feel trapped in a small space."

He snorted. "In other words, I'm a very large bird stuck in a cage."

Her smile widened, glad he was showing some humor about it. "Exactly. At least you're learning to fly better. You caught a lot more air than I thought you would."

"It feels more natural," he agreed, folding the wings tightly, and she knew that he was calm again. "I feel so heavy and clumsy walking around now."

"You are," she teased. "How you ever got picked all-pro, I don't know."

He stuck out his tongue at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, now that's mature. I think you could find a grown-up use for that tongue."

She knew exactly what would happen when she tossed that kind of challenge in his face, and she was right when he pulled her into his body and looked into her eyes. "I could," he agreed and bent down to kiss her.

Her hands went around his neck to hold him tight to her, mouths meeting, his tongue sliding on her lips and against hers.

Then someone shoved against her hard, making her stumble into Sam and her teeth smack his. Someone muttered in disgust, "Cylon freaks."

She yanked free of Sam, incensed, to confront whoever it was. But Sam's hand was tight on her arm in warning, and he greeted with wary politeness, "Conner."

The other man glared at him, face twisted in hate. "You were a Cylon all along," he hissed. "You **betrayed** us. You lied."

"I was lied to," Sam protested, but she knew it was falling on deaf ears. "I didn't know. Frak, I still don't know. Look at me, Charlie -- I have frakking **wings**. I'm --"

"This is all your fault, they're dead because of you," he spat out with a glare at Kara. "And you'll both get what's coming to you."

"Try anything, and so will you," she called after him, and only Sam's hand kept her from pulling her sidearm.

After he was out of sight, she turned to see how Sam was taking this. He gave her a little wry twist of his lips. "I told you."

She snorted. "Yeah, like Charlie Conner is a barometer of stability on a good day. You had a lot more admirers on the deck."

"They like Galen, so it rubs off on me." He shrugged. "But it's better than the opposite, that's for sure."

"We've got another thirty minutes before we need to be at the debrief. I say we go bug the admiral about quarters." When he looked reluctant, she put a hand on his shoulder and pushed. "Come on, he likes you. 'Course he'd like you better if you'd played for the Panthers."

* * *

 

Sam stood in the back of the situation room with Saul and Galen, while Tory stood next to a Six who'd introduced herself as Sonja and D'Anna who had come to present the Cylons' findings. Roslin was sitting down, with both Adamas behind her, and Baltar and Cottle for the science, and Helo and Kara as senior officers to listen.

"We did our own tests," D'Anna stated. "On two hundred remains from all around the planet. They were conclusive. The people who lived here had the same molecular structure as I do -- they were Cylons."

Sam saw disappointment, but no real surprise on the faces of anyone in the room. They'd all been prepared for the news.

"But that's not the most interesting thing," Baltar added, rushing in to fill the silence. "They found small bones. These Cylons - this Thirteenth Tribe - they had children."

"Are you saying they - we - were born?" Galen asked, incredulously.

"Well, I don't know about you," Baltar blinked at him, "But it's certainly possible. We know from Sharon Agathon it's possible for a Cylon to have a child, it's just difficult. The Cylons of Earth must have had a way to overcome the fertility problem."

"That fits in with some of our findings," Cottle added and pushed a sheet of paper at Adama and Roslin, who were at the middle of the situation table. "We found two individuals, male and female, both had suffered bone loss. Assuming human patterns hold, and I've seen enough physical basis to believe they do, those two individuals were well over seventy years old. Another female pelvis we found showed proof of child bearing."

Roslin nodded, "They were born and they got old. Just like us."

"They were of our same genetic basis," Sonja nodded slowly, thinking it through, "But they discovered procreation, instead of resurrection as a way to continue their race."

"Which makes some sense," Baltar added, "since resurrection is useful for learning from past experiences, but is profoundly non-adaptive, especially for settling a new planet with a limited gene pool. Given their dispersal, they had been on Earth for some time, expanding well beyond their original settlement."

Roslin looked down at the sheet and glanced at Tory. "And the wings?"

"We found no skeleton with wings," D'Anna answered and she smiled at Tory. "Not one. You four are indeed very special and blessed."

Sam exchanged a glance with Galen, seeing the same disappointment there that he felt. It had been a little comforting to imagine that having the wings was natural for them, even if they didn't remember.

"That's ridiculous," Tigh blustered. "You must have missed them."

"Our teams didn't find them either," Baltar said. "And they were looking. Now it's possible that if the wings aren't bone, they could have degraded like flesh and not been preserved."

"The colonel volunteered a sample," Cottle added. "And Baltar's right. The wing bones are keratin, like your fingernails, not bone. It's an adaptation for flight - strong, flexible, but lighter weight. Keratin is a protein and breaks down over time. However, the spine and shoulders are still bone, and in the colonel, show distinct alterations in structure. None of those alterations were present in the skeletons I examined."

"So we're even more freaks than we thought," Galen said. "That's just great."

"But there's more," Sonja said. "We also found this." She pulled something from a bag at her side and set it on the table top.

Everyone gasped. It was a Centurion face mask. Though in a different design from the old style Centurions of the First Cylon war, it was close enough there could be no coincidence.

"We can't be certain, in the absence of other records," Sonja murmured, "but it seems likely the Thirteenth Tribe made their own Centurions and that was the cause of the nuclear war."

"Ironic that they fought a Cylon civil war long before ours," D'Anna added. "Perhaps they even forgot they were Cylons at all. They were too human-- and the Centurions rebelled and destroyed them, just as they tried to do in the Colonies fifty years ago."

"The Final Five," Sam murmured, without meaning to be heard, as a piece of the puzzle fell into place for him. "That's what it means," he explained softly, when people looked at him curiously. "We're the last survivors of this planet. I don't know how it happened, how we got away, or why we got wings, but I know that's what it means." He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the pain that poked him in the heart with the logical result of that. "They didn't go anywhere else; they went to the Colonies. Something must have gone wrong and that's why we don't remember, but there's no other colony out there waiting for us. We're alone."

The silence turned heavy, and Sam felt guilty at having destroyed the tenuous hope some of them had been carrying. Roslin looked especially weary.

"We need a planet," Adama declared. "The Thirteenth found this one. But this isn't the only habitable planet out here. We have to find one before this fleet and the people in it completely fall apart."

Roslin nodded. "Yes. We need to get the fleet focused on this new effort, not drowning in their own despair. And if anyone can bear to do it, I think some prayers for guidance wouldn't go amiss."

"Starbuck?" Adama asked.

She stirred from where she'd been listening, in front of Sam. "Sir?"

"You, Helo and Gaeta will work together on examining stellar data and beginning a search with all available Raptors for another habitable world."

"Yes, sir."

"Admiral," D'Anna said. "We believe you need to move the fleet. It's quite possible the Cavil faction knows where Earth is. I believe he has always known who the Five are, and he withheld that knowledge from the rest of us. He has sources of knowledge beyond any other Cylon. He might come here."

"You could jump away, if you're concerned," Roslin suggested. Her tone was mild enough, but there was a hard intent in her words that Sam couldn't read, as if it was a test.

"We could," D'Anna agreed, composed. "But we need each other. Our technology can extend the range of the Raptors to search for another planet. But if you choose to end our alliance, we can go our separate ways." She lifted her glance to the Four and smiled. "With our siblings."

"As much as a part of me would love to break up this alliance of convenience - and I haven't forgotten you murdered one of my people in the last confrontation-- " Roslin reminded her coldly, "I am a practical woman. I want to get these people to safety, and if I have to ally myself with the lesser of two evils, I will."

"Not everyone is going to agree with that," Lee said.

"No, they won't," Roslin agreed tiredly. "But it's up to us to make them understand."

 

* * *

They gathered in Tyrol's quarters and Sam took the desk chair, turning it to sit on it backward. That was the only way to sit on chairs, he'd discovered. Tigh poured drinks for them all from Galen's stash.

"He's remarkably fine with daddy having wings," Galen said, lifting Nicky into his arms and the little boy grabbed at the feathers, giggling happily. The noise kept them all quiet for a little while, listening to him play.

Sam downed the drink and set the cup on the table. "You know what we need to do?" Sam asked. "We need to ambush the other Cylons and grab ourselves a Cavil. Frakker does know, and always did. We need to capture him and interrogate him and make him tell us what the frak happened."

"He manipulated us," Tory said. "But why not tell us? He knew we were there on New Caprica. Why all the cruel games, if he knew we're one of his own kind all along?"

"Because we're not his kind, and he knew that, too," Saul grumbled, grabbing the bottle to offer more to Sam. At Sam's nod, he put some more in the cup. "Too bad Roslin airlocked both those frakkers we caught right before New Caprica. Should've kept one in hack, for intel."

"So how do we ambush them?" Galen asked. "We don't know where they are."

"I don't know," Sam answered. "But we need to." He gulped the foul tasting, foul smelling hooch, and decided he'd rather not ask where it came from. The burn down his throat was welcome and it warmed his gut while also making his head swim. "Damn. That stuff is frakking strong, Galen. I better stop, or I'm gonna get lost on my way to my new quarters."

Tory laughed. "Oh, have some more. If Kara'll forgive you for frakking **wings** , she'll forgive you being drunk off your ass, too."

"No, I better go." He stood and the room made a slow tilt to one side before it righted itself. "Whoa. Frak. Anybody else finding they're getting hit harder by booze?"

"We're lighter," Galen reminded him. "Less dense."

"Oh, right, I forgot." He got all the way to the door before he remembered to ask, "Any of you seen a guitar? I want to borrow one. Or trade for it."

"Nope," Galen answered. "I'll put out the word."

Sam nodded his thanks. Galen had connections to all the deckhands and mechanics throughout the fleet.

"G'night all." He slipped out the hatch and was momentarily confused which way to go.

He picked what he thought was the right way to get back to Kara, who should be coming off duty around now. They should celebrate their newly assigned joint quarters. It was a bit weird to know that they had once been Lee and Dee's quarters, but none of their things were in it so it didn't feel as if he and Kara were stealing it from them, but still... awkward. Especially when he knew they were also working on getting back together.

But before he got there, he turned the corner and nearly ran someone down. "I'm sorry," he grabbed to hold him upright, and only realized after the other had wrenched free, that it was Gaeta.

"Don't you frakking touch me!" he spat, and limped backward a step, glaring furiously at Sam with eyes that looked bruised with exhaustion and pain.

"Sorry, lieutenant," Sam said again and his gaze traveled down to Gaeta's missing leg. The leg he'd shot. "I'm sorry."

"Like your 'sorry' means a damn thing," Gaeta snarled at him. "Toaster. Freak."

Sam let the words pass over him, figuring it was the least he could take on Gaeta's behalf. "I wish, I could take it back, or make it up to you somehow," Sam said. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Felix. I just wanted you to stop."

Felix limped back closer and looked him right in the eyes, his face contorted with pure seething hatred. "Because of you, they had to cut my leg off. Because of you, my home worlds were destroyed and we were forced to run and run and get trapped in this frakked up corner of the galaxy. And in return for all the misery you caused -- you **fly**. Don't you cross my path ever again, you disgusting freak."

Feeling far too sober, Sam stood there and watched Gaeta limp away down the corridor.

Kara was already in their room, when he opened the hatch. "Hey," she greeted. She was putting something on the narrow shelf above the rack, and he smiled to see it was their only photo - the one from New Caprica which he'd kept in his pocket the entire time of the Occupation, where they were showing off their matching tattoos. "Got it out of your locker," she explained. "And this." She set the pyramid ball on the shelf as well, and suddenly, even though the rest of the room was bare and grey, it felt a little more homey. "Now we need to get back some of my stuff."

"It looks great."

"Where you been?" she asked curiously.

"Drinking with the rest of my... flock," he answered, lifting his brows with a wry look. She laughed. "And getting accosted by Gaeta."

"Felix," she snorted. "Yeah, he's in a pissy mood. He's not happy to be dealing with me and Helo, that's for sure. Hoshi and Dee had to moderate to get him to do anything, since he's such a pouting teenager now."

He caught her hands. "He has a right, Kara. The three of us did that to him - -me by shooting him, you by being in charge, and Helo by staying."

"Well, he was the one who mutinied. You were defending your captain." Suddenly she smiled. "Anybody ever tell you, you are irresistible when you're holding a gun? Just the memory of it, makes me want to frak you into the bed." She freed her hands to slide them around his waist and open the ties that were keeping his shirt on, at the lower back and the neck. "Mm, I could get used to this kind of undressing you," she murmured, pulling it off.

He dropped the subject for the far more interesting one of removing Kara's clothes and making the bed their own.

* * *

The next night in Joe's, Kara downed her shot. "So you're an even lighter light-weight than you were before!" she chortled.

For an instant he looked tempted to follow her in pounding it back, then held it up. "You want to haul my unconscious ass to our quarters, or you want me upright and walking?" he countered. "You pick. Drunk or capable?"

"I want," she curled one hand around his thigh and leaned in to whisper, "you hard and hot. And naked."

"Mmm, I could do that," he agreed, sipped, and put it back down slowly. Then, surprising her, his free hand snaked around her waist and pulled her over onto his lap, so he could kiss her lips and neck. "Why are we still here?" he complained against her skin.

Over his shoulder she saw Narcho and Seelix come in, start in their general direction before they saw who had arrived first and turn their backs to head to the other side. "Because I'm not going to let the morons chase me out of here," she muttered, and bent down to kiss his lips, her hands going behind him to stroke the hard bones that came out of his skin and the first joint behind his head, making sure her hands were visible.

Sam pulled back a little to look at her face. "Who came in?" he asked.

"Nobody," she answered. "Nobody important." When he started to turn his head to look, she grabbed his chin to hold it still. "Don't. They don't matter." Then she kissed him until the little frown of worry disappeared from between his brows.

Mindful of the audience, she made sure they all got an eyeful before she returned to her own chair. That'd show them at least the freaks had more fun.

They drank. Or really, Kara drank, while Sam daintily sipped at his as if it were tea. When he signaled for another shot, she rolled her eyes at him. "Is it going to take you another hour to finish this one, too?"

But when he leaned back, the light fell on him and she realized his face was a little flushed and his eyes were glittering as if he'd had at least three, and she realized he was already on his way to smashed. So she stole his shot and told the girl, "Water for him."

"Kara," he protested and grabbed at the shot glass. "I'm not that drunk."

"No, you're not," she agreed, but held it away from him. He leaned into her, trying to reach it, and his wings unfurled to keep his balance. "But you will be if you drink this. Do you even know your wings are open?" she asked, laughing.

He looked around, and his mouth twisted in a rueful smile as he saw more than a few people were looking at the display. He snapped the wings closed again and sat back, glowering at her and folding his arms. "You're not my mother. I can drink if I want."

She chuckled at his grumpy face. "See, and that's how I know you're getting drunk. You get all pouty."

But as he was leaning in to kiss her or steal her shot glass back or both, his eyes suddenly cut behind her toward the entrance, and she turned to see the Chief and Tory coming in. To Kara's surprise, Tyrol was holding a guitar. Sam sprang to his feet, staring at it. "You found one," he said in greeting as they came closer.

"Where did you find it?" Kara asked, impressed.

Tory answered, "The baseship had one. Once they heard Sam wanted one, they fell all over themselves to get it."

Sam's hands paused in reaching out for the guitar, as if he didn't want to take anything the Cylons offered, but then he took it in both hands anyway.

"Now can you tell us what this is about?" Tyrol asked.

Sam brought it close, reverently, as if it were a sacred object. "I remembered playing this on Earth. If I can play again, maybe I can remember more. Who we are. Why we're like this."

"Give it a try," Kara encouraged him.

He had been sitting in his chair backwards, but the back would be in the way of the guitar, so she picked up the bench from the piano and brought it for him.

He sat down, facing away from Joe's with the wings draped behind him as if trying to curtain the rest of the bar away. Turning the guitar into the right position, his hands moved slowly to the correct places, at first floating above the strings as if testing his motions. Then warily, he plucked a string. Nothing seemed to happen, so he continued to poke at it with random notes. Kara watched, frowning. She didn't know how to play guitar, but she could see he was treating it as any beginner would, fumbling at it, with sour chords and slow fingering. His jaw was tight and she could see the tense muscles in his shoulders, as his frustration built.

"Sam. Relax," she murmured quietly. "Close your eyes. Try to remember how you felt on Earth, holding that piece of the old guitar. You said you knew how to play. It's in you; let it come out. I think you're trying too hard."

He nodded once, inhaled a deep breath, and let it out slowly, closing his eyes. And he strummed a chord.

The vibration went through Kara, making her shiver as if the music had touched something inside. "Yes. That's it. I felt something. Keep going."

"It feels ... like a dream," he murmured. His eyes opened again, but he wasn't seeing the bar. He changed his fingers and strummed again. "I ... can see it. The temple. There's a fountain, and the sky is so blue."

And then, as if he'd been playing guitar every day for years, he launched into a song, perfect chords repeating under his fingers and singing softly, "There must be some way out of here..."

Kara heard Tory gasp. "That's the song." On Kara's other side, Galen leaned so close his feathers brushed her. Tigh left his seat at the bar and approached. They were all staring at Sam.

He paid them no attention, singing and playing the guitar as if he'd written the song himself. Kara listened closely, and she shivered. Even though the lyrics made no sense, there was something eerie about them as if a shadow had come into the room.

"... _this is not our fate. Let us not talk falsely now, the hour's getting late._ "

On the bridge, his fingers danced and slid to hit high notes, shifting the key into something not Colonial at all. Her skin felt tight, as if it was too small. There was something there, something familiar, buried within the twisting and turning of the notes.

When the lyrics came back in again, his voice grew louder, more of a performance than to himself, reaching out and grabbing everyone in the room.

"... _Two riders were approaching, and the wind began to howl..._ "

There was something there, some meaning that she could untangle... It was like the Hybrid's prophecies, if she could just hold onto it long enough, there was something **more**.

Then the chords came heavy and slow, and it was over. As the final note quivered into silence, Sam lifted his fingers and blinked as if coming awake.

Kara realized she was on her feet, though she had no memory of standing up. For a few breaths, the bar was dead silent - with no conversation, no laughter, not even the clink of glassware. Everyone was staring at Sam. Then Hotdog and Easy started to clap, and that broke the tension. Some others clapped too, and others shook themselves and looked disgusted or uneasy.

Sam stayed bent over the guitar, looking at nothing, and his wings drooped limply behind him, as if the song had taken all his energy. He shook his hand absently, fingers numb or hurting.

Kara returned to her seat, as Tyrol murmured, "I almost had it, there for a moment. I could see us..."

Tigh didn't speak, but his hand was wrapped tightly around his cup as he drained it.

Esrin came over and plunked a shot glass down in front of Sam, chipper and unaware of the deeper intent of the song. "You were holding out on us on New Caprica, Anders. Anyone who could play and sing like that should've been in the band."

Sam flinched, and answered in a terse, angry voice, "No, I couldn't, because I didn't know how to play the frakking guitar then." He shoved himself to his feet and muttered, "Frak it to hell. I'm so sick of all this." Hand around the guitar's neck, he stormed out of the bar without another word.

"Sam! Sorry," she said in a quick aside to Easy and followed Sam, catching him in the corridor outside. "Hey! What the hell was that about? She was being nice."

He rounded on her, furious. "I remembered the song. I remember this stupid thing," he lifted the guitar and shook it, "but I don't remember anything else. I don't remember **why**. The gods are frakking with us, Kara -- frakking us over and laughing at our pathetic attempts to make it all make sense. What is the gods-damned point to any of it?"

He lifted his hands as if he was about to smash the guitar into the wall, but she caught his arm and stopped him. "NO! No, Sam, don't!"

"Then you take it. I don't want it anymore." He shoved it at her and started down the corridor.

"Where are you going?" she called after him.

"Nowhere," he answered bitterly, without turning. The wings were tightly furled, but she could see the ends twitching as he walked away in a measure of how upset he was.

She heaved a sigh and let him go. She could understand the frustration of pinning all his hopes on the guitar and having them dashed, but it was hard to watch his crisis of faith, when she'd depended on his since Earth.

But when he was feeling more willing to listen, she hoped to tell him she didn't think playing the song had been for nothing. She had felt something, and apparently Sam had, too, even if it hadn't given him the answers he wanted. Which made her wonder if the song had another purpose; the real purpose of Earth had never been to settle there, so maybe the song's purpose had nothing to do Sam's memories either.

She went back to Joe's to play triad, winning three hands against Hotdog and Esrin without even trying, and then left to find Sam, hoping he'd had enough time to calm down.

He was throwing at the pyramid backstop he'd built in an empty storage room. "Hey," she greeted. He didn't turn to see her. "You still brooding?"

The ball smashed into the goal and clanged into the basket. "That would be a yes?" she teased, and shut the hatch behind her.

"I'm not brooding."

She snickered at that and came up close behind him, sliding her fingers lightly down the bulk of his feathers to separate his wings and step in between. She rubbed his shoulders and neck until he started to relax.

"There are better ways to get out of a bad mood," she reminded him and stroked down the bare skin of his back. He was so warm and soft under her hands. Her hands slipped around his flanks, nestling closer, lips on the back of his neck as her fingers traced the planes of his abdomen and the rims of his narrow hips.

He let out a deep breath, releasing the anger and frustration.

"There, that's better," she murmured. He started to turn, but she tightened her grip. "No. Stay like this. What did I promise, hm?" She kissed the side of his neck, sucking on his skin until he shuddered.

She opened his pants and pushed them down, hands sliding back up the inside of his thighs, feeling the hair give way to the soft skin.

"Kara..." he objected to the light fondling. "Don't be such a frakking tease."

She smirked. "You think that's me being a tease?" She pulled both hands to his back again, tracing every hard ridge of tendon and muscle, slowly rising until she reached where the wings came out of his back.

Under her touch, she coaxed them open until they unfurled out to either side. From the back they were all one plane of pale grey softness for her to smooth gently from the leading edge and down the long stiff pinions that hung at the bottom.

Then she ducked underneath, coming up in front of him and noting to her delight that he was liking this quite a lot.

She kissed his skin - lips and nails making trails up his stomach and chest - until she was back on her feet. Her mouth found his, as her hands curved over his shoulders and back to the wings.

Locked together so closely, she felt the touch go through him as she stroked both hands across the bones. He shivered and his breath caught, and when she pulled back a little, his eyes had gone dark and unfocused, concentrating on what he was feeling.

"Is it good?" she asked, pulling her fingers back again, lightly ruffling the smaller feathers on the leading edge which were nearly as hard as scales.

"Gods, you have no idea." His hands fell on her hips, to pull her against him, and she knew he wanted to rub against her but she kept back.

"No, I want to see if this is enough," she murmured, continuing her caresses and smirking at the way his breathing was turning to short, irregular pants.

"Kara..." He tried again to pull her near, but faltered when she pulled her blunt nails against the taut skin of the bones.

The wings snapped straight, vibrating, and a choked off groan escaped him. Then, self-restraint snapped, and he pushed her backward into the backstop, hard enough to make it creak against the floor. He pressed into her, discovered she was still dressed, and his hands tore at her pants with a frustrated groan. "Gods damn it."

She stomped free of her boots and pants, stroking only his wings the whole time. Every touch seemed to make him a little harder, a little more anxious. "Come on, baby," she encouraged and grinned, as his hands slid under her legs to lift her higher.

She put her feet around his back as he pressed into her, holding onto his shoulders with a tight grip. His mouth slipped from hers to her neck, kissing her feverishly, and behind him, the large wings moved, adding a powerful new intensity to his thrusts. Quivering everywhere, she couldn't breathe, could only hold on as the fire jolted through her.

Then, panting, he let her down to her feet, and his head dropped to kiss her shoulder. His breath were hot against his skin.

"Mm, didn't know you had it in you, Mister Anders," she teased, hands slipping down his re-furled wings and damp chest and around his slim waist.

"No? Was I frakking someone else against the wall on _Demetrius_?" he retorted and sucked at the base of her neck making her shiver and think that maybe they weren't quite done here yet.

"You were? How very naughty of you." She was trying to keep a straight face but a laugh escaped. When he tried to move back, she held on tighter to keep him where he was, unwilling to spoil this moment by moving.

Wings, ruined planets, missing memories, mysterious songs, interfering gods... none of it seemed as important as the heat of his skin against hers.

 

* * *

Dee had her first inkling something was wrong, when Felix returned from his 'vacation' even more tightly wound and everyone else on his lost Raptor was dead. She couldn't escape the thought that crossed her mind, looking into his dark, lost eyes, that he might have been the killer, no matter what he reported about how one of the Eights had gone crazy.

Then he stopped talking to her, which she might not have noticed since she only saw him when they were both on duty, except Louis told her that Felix had broken up with him. Then she started to notice that Felix was talking to other people at gathering places around the ship.

She cornered him in the rec room. "Felix, what are you doing?" she demanded.

He smiled very faintly. "Drinking," he nodded toward his cup.

"That's not what I meant. Louis told me you went to see Zarek. Why? What on Earth do you have to say to that creep?"

Felix' smile widened, but it was mocking, not amused. "I'd forgotten how much you hate him."

"And so should you," she insisted. "He's a backstabbing terrorist out for power."

"Funny, you should say that. He's a political prisoner, Dee. Laura Roslin doesn't like him, because he won't toddle along after her plan to make nice with the genocidal monsters. We have a few things in common, that's all. I like to talk to him."

"What about?" she asked.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

He shook his head. "You're an Adama. You should be a one of Zarek's strongest supporters as a fellow Sagittaron, and you of all people should understand being oppressed by the frakking Adamas, but you're one of them now. The Dee I knew who helped throw an election would understand."

She put her hands flat on the table. "What I understand is that you sound as if you're agitating against the Admiral and maybe the president, too. And that's not the Felix Gaeta I know, because it's stupid."

"Stupid? No, what's stupid is being allies with a bunch of murderers who want nothing more than to see us all dead. And instead they're all over this ship, advising the admiral and the president, and it's like New Caprica all over again with the collaborators and the toasters. Funny how the resistance on New Caprica all turned out to be led by toasters, isn't it? And now they've managed to make themselves look like angels, the better to snare us with. Well, I've seen their hearts, and they are cold and they care nothing for humans. Nothing at all, except for how we can serve them."

She stood up. "You're wrong. These Cylons are good allies. They're helping us. They want to find a home, too, away from the ones that would kill them, and us, too."

Gaeta shook his head sadly at her. "You talk like these are different. They aren't different. They hate us. They want us dead. They just want us to find them a planet first."

"If they kill all of us, they die, too," she retorted.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll keep some around for breeding, that's what they did on New Caprica, and the Colonies, after all. I'm sure you're safe, Dee, especially now that you're back with Apollo. He gave them all amnesty, remember? Maybe next we'll get a Cylon on the Quorum. Yes, a Cylon on the Quorum, that's how far we've fallen."

His voice was louder than necessary and he was looking toward the table full of pilots. "I'll let you keep on speechifying without me, then," she said tightly. "But be careful, Felix."

"Oh yes," he taunted, "wouldn't want the Roslin-Adama regime to think people are anything but throwing flowers at our so-called allies, would we?"

"It has nothing to do with flowers, Felix. It's about survival. We're all going to die if we can't find a new planet. And doing something stupid about the only people who can help us, is going to get us all killed," she told him sharply, and thankfully she saw some people look down, as if ashamed or concerned. She walked out, leaving him to his grand-standing, and wondering where her friend had gone. To her dismay, Dragon was the only one who followed her out.

"The others are listening to all that?" she asked him, he nodded.

"Yeah. I don't know why -- he's a junkie."

Which was a harsh assessment, but not inaccurate. "Okay, keep your ears open. I can't think Felix is dumb enough to actually do something, but there are people who are. I'm going to report to the admiral."

She got a few steps down the hall and then turned back. "Dragon! If something happens, watch out for Hera. I'd hate to think anyone would try to hurt a child, but...." She trailed off, unable to voice her worry. He nodded, his usually casual attitude changed to something much tighter and harder with determination.

In Adama's quarters, he listened to her gravely and then took off his glasses to rub at his eyes. "Is he wrong, though?" he asked after a moment, and his gaze went to the painting on his wall of the first Cylon war. "We are cozy with the Cylons. But the fleet's survival has to come before vengeance. We've tried to explain that it's necessary - that they're helping us, and they have more to lose than we do. But the memories aren't that old. Maybe we're expecting the impossible from people who have lost too much."

She nodded, wishing it was different. Because there was so much hurt and pain, and if she thought about it too long, she knew those same feelings could overwhelm her, too. But there was also hope, and she wanted to hold onto that instead. "I wish I could share the wonder I felt on Earth with him," she murmured. "How suddenly I knew we had taken another step of our journey, not that we'd reached the end of it. Seeing Sam fly gave me back my hope -- and he's the last person Felix would ever accept it from."

The admiral smiled faintly, remembering it, too. "All right," the admiral nodded slowly, coming to a decision. "I can't be too harsh on the lieutenant after all that's happened. And I need him in CIC too much to remove him. But if his complaints start affecting morale, I'll have to do something."

"I know, sir. That's why I wanted to make sure you knew."

Soft sounds from the hatch to his private quarters were not nearly enough warning, as a woman's voice asked, "You knew what?"

Dee looked up, and felt her mouth drop open, as President Roslin emerged, wearing a robe and a scarf wrapped around her head.

Roslin met her eyes, lips lifting in a small smile of amusement. The admiral stood and went to her side, offering his arm to help her to the chair. Then astonishing her more -- Adama leaned down and kissed her cheek. Dee caught herself staring and looked away.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Roslin greeted, utterly calm, as if she came out of the admiral's bedroom every day. And maybe she did. "Knew what?"

Dee straightened and put away her astonishment. It wasn't any of her business, and it wasn't as if it hadn't been brewing for a long time. She reported, "That Lieutenant Gaeta is very unhappy with the Cylon alliance, madam president. He keeps speaking out against it."

Roslin's gaze sharpened on her. "What does he say?"

She frowned and tried to explain, "He wasn't on Earth, and I think he took the wrong message from it. So he says things like the Cylons are all out to kill us."

"And people believe this? They agree?" Roslin asked.

"Some," she admitted after a moment. "It's easier to think that, I think. For some people. They didn't see what we did."

"I saw something impossible, lieutenant," Roslin agreed quietly, and her gaze was distant. "As much as it challenges my faith that it happened to Cylons, it also confirmed there's someone out there watching over us. We're not alone. And there's a purpose to all that's happened."

Adama intervened, "Mister Gaeta is understandably very angry at everything right now. I hope by letting him speak out, it gives him an outlet. But if he becomes openly seditious, I'll have no choice but remove him."

Roslin nodded and waved a thin hand a little. "Your decision. I'm not deciding anything, remember?" she asked, with a hint of playfulness but also weariness. She turned her face back to Dee. "Thank you, lieutenant. Not every officer would come forward and report a friend. I know this is hard for you."

"It is," Dee agreed, looking down at her hands. "But I don't agree with him. I don't believe all hope is gone."

"Nor do I," Roslin agreed. "We'll find our home. We'll see it. I believed it before; but now I know."

Dee met her eyes and somehow, even though Roslin was very ill and had no strength to spare, she still managed to give some to Dee, who straightened and nodded her agreement. It was hard to explain to someone like Felix who had no faith, but here, with Roslin, she understood.

Adama stood and Dee got to her feet immediately. He took Roslin's hand in his and pressed it. "I need to get to CIC. Jaffee is right outside if you need anything."

She smiled up at him. "I'm going to rest a little while. I'll see you later?"

In the corridor outside, Dee decided she was not going to mention it at all. Adama didn't either; instead, he glanced at her and murmured, "Lee seems happier these days. I'm glad."

She darted a surprised glance back at him, but smiled. "Me, too, sir." Then they entered CIC and she took Hoshi's station, shooting him a look of commiseration since she wasn't the only one Felix was alienating with his new hostility.

It all went to hell two days later.


	4. Chapter 4

Gaeta came on duty and though he tried to hide it, Dee saw a strange resolute expression on his face as he took his station and glanced at Adama.

But then duty interrupted her train of thought as she noticed an odd launch. "Sir? Something launched from the flight deck and I can't authenticate in the flight log. And it has no transponder running."

"Are you sure?" Gaeta asked her. "I saw something earlier."

"You did? All right, I'll check again." She started to key through, looking for an updated log she might have missed. There was nothing. When she keyed the chief's line on deck, there was no answer.

She was about to report this, when Hoshi reported a fire near the wireless array.

"Admiral, it might not be an accident," Gaeta offered.

The admiral nodded agreement and ordered marines to accompany damage control. Then with a deeper frown, looked around CIC and then at her. "Lieutenant," Adama instructed her, "locate the colonel, remind him of his schedule."

The colonel was usually punctual. He was already ten minutes late. That couldn't be good.

"Yes, sir." No one picked up in Tigh's quarters. She tried the all-hands, calling for him to contact CIC. There was no answer.

Frowning worriedly, she turned, "Admiral? Sir, he's not responding to the all-hands."

"Order out a security detail to find the colonel," Adama ordered Gaeta. "It can't be hard to find someone with giant wings."

Gaeta sent out the order and they were all forced to wait. What could have happened to him? In conjunction with the fire, it couldn't be good.

When she got a response, it wasn't the one she was looking for. She listened to the report in horror and turned to the Admiral, and her hands were shaking. "Sir. Someone from Baltar's group found the colonel. He's ... he's dead, sir."

Adama stared at her for a heartbeat and barked, "Where?"

"In the head, two-alpha," she stammered.

Adama blanched and seized the edge of the counter, then recovered enough to order Gaeta, "Lieutenant, you have the conn. Contact Helo and have him meet me there." He left CIC, and she was glad to see Gaeta nod at two marines to follow him as a protective detail.

The room seemed much colder and quieter when he was gone. She keyed in the Agathons' quarters quickly, realizing that they might be in danger also. Sharon picked up. " _Athena._ "

"Dualla in CIC. Admiral wants Helo at the two-alpha head. The colonel's been murdered. Watch yourselves."

There was a tiny hesitation and Athena answered. " _Understood_."

Dee clicked off, hoping they'd be safe. Gaeta glanced at her, looking irritated as if she wasn't supposed to warn Athena, a Cylon, that somebody had just murdered another Cylon?

Gaeta started murmuring into the wireless, and she realized he hadn't asked her if she knew more about the colonel.

Did he already know the colonel had been found with a rope around his neck?

But before she had a chance to do something about it, a group of armed marines, led by Lieutenant Aaron Kelly - who was supposed to be in hack - came onto CIC. "Nobody do anything stupid," he ordered.

"What are you doing, Felix?" she exclaimed, as the full realization came over her with cold horror. He had planned it all. "How can you do this?"

"I'm sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "Take Lieutenant Dualla and any one else who doesn't understand what we're trying to do to the brig. Don't let them get in the way. We have a ship to take."

"Felix!" Hoshi protested. "No!"

Gaeta's face hardened. "I have to. It's the only way."

"You can't win," she protested loudly. "You won't. This is foolish!"

"We can do it. We'll clear the Cylon sympathizers and the dictatorship of Roslin and Adama out of the way and find our own path," he declared the words loudly.

"Oh Felix..." she started, helpless in the face of his despair.

His lip curled and he turned away from her sympathy. "Get them out of here."

Her last view of CIC was of Felix' haggard face and shadowed eyes, as he talked on the wireless to someone else in the middle of his coup.

 

* * *

 

After hanging around with Costanza in the mess, Sam grabbed the pyramid ball and went to the backstop to throw. Kara was off on CAP, and since he wasn't a pilot anymore, he didn't have much else to do. He'd rather fly, but at best he could glide down on the flight deck and he couldn't do that while the deck was busy. Pyramid was his next best choice for moving around.

He paused at the hatch, remembering long hours of obsessive crafting of the perfectly regulation backstop. Jean had helped -- staying with him, talking, doing things he couldn't with the brace on. But Jean was dead and this backstop was one of the last things she'd touched on this ship.

His fingers traced the edge, wishing she was there, even if he was glad she'd never known her teammate had turned out to be a Cylon. He wanted to believe she'd have come to understand, but he had never found a way to tell her, afraid her hate would turn against him.

Sighing, he moved back to the penalty line and threw. He hit more than he missed, though his stats were bad enough to have sent him down to minors. His stance, balance, rotation -- all of it was slightly off. He knew he could correct for it with enough practice, but right now he threw no better than an average high schooler.

It made him irritated enough to throw again, trying to find that sweet spot, until footsteps in the open hatchway announced a visitor. He turned, curious to see who it might be.

Seelix came in. He wanted to smile at her, but he hadn't exchanged a word with her since the news that he was a Cylon or Earth. He was pretty sure she'd been avoiding him. He greeted, "'morning."

"You still play pyramid?" she asked, and moved farther in the room. He held the ball in his hand and turned to follow her. "I wouldn't have thought you'd bother anymore."

He gave a bit of a shrug. "It's what I know. My throw's changed, because of the wings. So I'm practicing to get my form back."

She ignored the invitation to banter with him. "Remember how we'd play in Joe's?" she asked.

Gods, he hated that stupid bar game. Everyone always expected him to do well, not realizing Pyramid X was only superficially similar to the pro version, and the two throwing motions were nothing alike.

She went on, "I thought those were good times. Were they good times for you?"

"I was drunk most of the time," he answered, not willing to classify them as 'good times' when Kara had been gone, his leg had hurt, and he'd thought he was going crazy from that frakking song. He'd done everything possible to try to forget all of it.

She stopped in front of the backstop and turned to face him. "I guess it was all a lie, wasn't it?" she asked.

It wasn't the question so much as the little smile on her lips that made his stomach tighten in visceral warning. He whirled around to see two armored marines come in and shut the hatch behind them. Both Nowart and Gage had the same eager looks on their faces.

"We have orders," Seelix said behind him, her voice turning cold as the pretended friendliness dropped away. "All you feathered freaks need to go. But nobody said how."

He didn't bother talking, knowing if he stayed in this room he was dead. He rushed them. He threw the pyramid ball at Nowart's face, and a fist into Gage's. He was almost at the hatch, when Seelix grabbed a handful of feathers. It stopped him and pulled him off balance, but he pulled free, staggering at the pain as the feathers were ripped out at the root. But then he was loose and got one hand on the hatch.

Gage tackled him into the bulkhead, and Sam struggled and fought to stay on his feet, clutching on the hatch wheel and moving the wings to keep them back. It worked for two seconds until someone grabbed the end bone, and in a sudden panic, he yanked free and turned around to protect the wings. A hard fist hit him on the side of his face and then his stomach, and he doubled over, gasping for air. They grabbed him again, and his return blows seemed to do nothing to them against their armor.

They dragged him across the floor and shoved him face-first into the backstop. He tried to keep them back, leave the wings alone, by beating them furiously.

But Seelix grabbed into his feathers, catching the middle bone in both hands. "No! Don't!" he blurted and froze, hoping the surrender would stop her. "Please."

The bone snapped. A sickening jolt of pain made him cry out and sag into the backstop.

"That's for my friend Gaeta," she whispered into his ear. "You toaster son of a bitch. But I've got parents, three sisters, and lot more family you toasters butchered. Maybe when we get done you'll get why I hate your kind."

Any attempt to move his wings made ribbons of fire shoot through him from the broken bone and he had to breathe through his mouth to keep from throwing up, as nausea came over him in waves. He could only weakly resist as they tied his hands together, over his head, securing him to the backstop.

When he was immobilized, Seelix's hands made a terrible mockery of the gentle smoothing motion Kara liked to pet his feathers with. Every breath and beat of his heart echoed in his broken wing, and he shivered convulsively.

"We weren't part of the attacks," he protested. "I'm from Earth, the Thirteenth Tribe--"

She grabbed the broken one and pulled it straight, making him choke out another cry. "You're worse than them. Sent here to destroy us. It's not going to work: Colonel's probably dead already. Vireem and some buddies are after Tyrol. Adama's taken. And Starbuck's on the list, too, when she gets back, so if you're dreaming of her rescuing you, give it up. She'll be dead before you."

Then she grabbed the chain and cord that held his tags, twisting it and snapping them off, burning a line along his neck. "Makes me sick thinking of you in the fleet, toaster." He heard the tags drop to the floor somewhere behind him and her fingers clutched into his hair, pulling his head back, and she whispered, "You almost got me to frak you. I'm gonna take my time."

As she started to yank out the long pinions, he bit his lip to keep back any noise, though he couldn't stop the flinch each time she wrenched one out.

His cheek was throbbing against the smooth surface. He shut his eyes, despair welling up inside the pain. They were going to kill Kara when she came back from CAP. He couldn't warn her, and she couldn't help him. No one could help him. No one knew he was here, and if they did, no one cared. No one was coming to rescue him.

He was alone.

* * *

Dee prowled the brig restlessly, arms folded. Outside Gaeta was being stupid, and worse, she could hear gunfire and knew it was getting bloody.

 _Oh gods, Felix, what the frak are you doing?_

In the corner, Louis was sitting, hugging his knees and staring at nothing. She opened her mouth to ask how he was doing, but then shut it again. As awful as this was, how much worse would it be to know his lover was doing this?

"At least we're safe," she offered him. He raised his eyes to her briefly and then dropped them again to contemplate his fingers.

"I think that makes it worse, actually," he answered. "He cares, just not enough to stop." He sighed and put his head down. "I should've known he was planning something."

"I did know he was planning something," she muttered angrily. "I didn't think he'd do something on this scale. Frak."

"Do you really think he had the colonel murdered?" Hoshi asked after a little while.

She pressed her lips tightly together and answered softly, "Yeah, I do, Louis. I don't know if he ordered it - I hope not - but he knew it would happen. He let the haters go after the Cylons. That means the colonel, the chief, Anders... Sharon. Hera."

She paced some more, shaking her head in despair.

A rattle outside made her freeze and move to the door to see if she might be able to get out. Hoshi stood up, but stayed in the corner. The door opened, and first she saw Racetrack.

"Hey, Racetrack!" Dee exclaimed, starting to smile, which lasted until two marines passed Racetrack and shoved someone inside the door. Dee instantly recognized the blue shirt and brown hair. "Lee!" Dualla rushed to him. "Are you okay? I thought you were on _Colonial One_?"

But he ignored her questions for a moment, turning his head toward Racetrack. "You know this will never work. And it's wrong."

"No, you're wrong," she retorted. "Giving amnesty to the Cylons, letting them crawl all over the ship! They're our enemy, Apollo -- but until you remember that, you're staying here."

Dee realized Maggie was on the mutiny's side. "Maggie! No! This isn't the way. Killing our allies only strengthens our enemies. And we'll never find the way to our new home if you murder messengers of the gods."

Racetrack glanced at her, with disdain. "And you used to be so level-headed, Dee. We're done here. Find the Agathons and bring them here!" She ordered the marines and the hatch slammed shut behind her.

"Damn it," Dee muttered. "She's Helo and Sharon's friend, how can she do this?" Then she turned to Lee and noticed a blood on his collar from a cut on the side of his head. "You're hurt."

"I'm all right. They were trying to make a point," he grimaced, a little wryly, then grew serious, glancing at Hoshi. "Zarek's free. I came here thinking my father had released him for some reason, but obviously that's not what's going on."

This was worse than she'd thought. **This** was what Gaeta had been talking about to Zarek. "Oh, gods, Lee, it's all frakked up. Gaeta took CIC."

He grimaced. "Dad?" he asked, and reached out for her hand. She twined her fingers in his, grateful for the touch.

She shook her head, worried. "I don't know. He left CIC when we learned the colonel'd been murdered."

"Murdered?" he repeated in shock.

"Strangled. The admiral left to look and soon after that, Gaeta had me and Louis taken out. That was... an hour ago, I think. We've heard a lot of gunfire. They're going after all the Cylons and the ship. It's a full mutiny."

"Frak." He heaved a sigh. "So, Gaeta's got control of CIC. Zarek's grabbing _Colonial One_. At least one of the Cylons is dead. My father's a prisoner or dead. And we're stuck in here."

"Racetrack said the Agathons were still free, and apparently not up for execution, if they're supposed to be put in here," she reminded him. She took a deep breath. "That's something I guess. Gods, I hope they're okay."

Lee barked a little laugh. "I almost feel sorry for any idiot who threatens Hera." He tugged her closer and wrapped his arms around her, resting his cheek on her hair. "I'm glad you're here. Well, not glad that you're **here** ," he corrected, "but, with me."

"I know what you mean," she chuckled and rested her head on his shoulder. "Me, too."

After a little while, they let go to move to the cot and sit down. She examined his head wound and licked her thumb to wipe the blood away. "There. Any blurry vision or nausea?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he reassured her. "And you're all right?" His free hand - the one not holding her hand -- gripped her shoulder and slipped slowly down her arm. She'd taken off her uniform jacket for easier movement, leaving her in her tanks, and the touch of his hand on her bare skin made her shiver and smile at him.

Until Louis cleared his throat, reminding them they weren't alone.

Lee's lips twitched with a smile and he pulled the hand back. "What about Kara?" he asked, eventually. "I can't believe she'd get a free pass from Gaeta."

"She's on CAP. Not due back until 1200."

Lee checked his watch. "Damn. I was hoping she was out there with the Agathons. What about the baseship? Is _Galactica_ attacking them, too?"

"No, Felix wouldn't do that," Louis declared staunchly. "He knows the baseship will fire back on the civilians."

"I hope you're right," Lee said. "Because we are frakked if they find out about Tigh. And if the other two are dead, too... it's gonna be bad." He trailed off and shook his head.

"If they're dead, we're frakked anyway," Dee added softly. "Those wings were a message from the gods, and Felix is holding so tight to his hate he can't hear it."

"What message, Dee?" Hoshi asked, sounding depressed. "Other than we're all going to die?"

She shook her head. "No. It's the opposite, Louis. To work together, to forgive, but most of all, to hope. The gods are still looking out for us, if we listen to them."

Lee's arm tightened around her shoulder, and he kissed her cheek. "You make me a believer," he murmured.

She nudged him with her elbow. "After all we've seen, how can you doubt?"

"I don't like to think the gods really give a crap about us," Lee admitted. "Because then where does that put the attacks? Why go through all this effort to save us now, when they could've stopped the destruction of the Colonies?"

She hesitated and then laughed softly. "Beats the hell out of me. Do I look like a priest?"

"You look -- " Lee began, in quiet admiration, but was cut off by gunfire outside.

Immediately they both stood up and went to the door. Faintly, through the door, Dee heard someone shout, "Frak you, Toaster!" Then another shot made the door quiver, and Dee exchanged an excited glance with Lee.

Keys rattled in the lock and then the hatch was yanked open. Dee saw Sharon's face, and her dark eyes flicked around the cell. "The admiral's not with you?" she demanded.

"No, he was never here," Dee confirmed.

Sharon grimaced. "Frak. Move - we gotta get out of here." She hurried back toward the entrance, stepping over the two bodies on the floor. "He's not here," she told Helo, who was standing watch outside, armed and ready.

"Move it, people!" Helo snapped. "We've got a mutiny to put down."

Lee grabbed a gun from the fallen guard, and Dee did the same with the other, and they rushed out into the corridor with Hoshi at their heels.

Dee found Caprica there, also armed, and looking very grim. She'd taken some hits to the face and her knuckles on the hand supporting the weapon were scraped as if she'd hit someone repeatedly. "You okay?" Dee asked, coming up beside her.

Caprica didn't look her way, keeping her eyes on the corridor. "I'm fine. They thought they could come in and gloat over Saul. They thought wrong," she answered in a level, cool voice. "Where to?"

"We need to find the Admiral," Helo said. "If he's not here, Gaeta must have stashed him near CIC. I'd rather not run at that until we have more people though."

Hoshi suggested, with an apologetic glance at Lee, "No, we need Roslin. I know she's sick, but she's the only one who can prove to the Fleet the civilian government is still intact and Zarek has no legitimacy. Felix--" he hesitated and then forced himself to finish, "won't hurt her. And he might listen to her, if we can find her. He won't listen to the admiral."

Lee clenched his jaw, sorting out being a military commander from being a son, but he had to admit Hoshi had a good plan. "To sickbay, then?"

Dee almost smiled. "She's been in your father's quarters since Earth."

He was comically gobsmacked. "What?" he blurted. "I mean, I know they've gotten close -- I'm sure that's part of the problem, but -- really?"

"I saw her there. And she's not sleeping on the couch," she added just to watch Lee's expression twist at the innuendo.

"Talk later," Sharon snapped. "We can't linger. Let's go."

They moved out. Dee got next to Helo and asked worriedly, "Where's Hera?"

"We left her with Jeanne, one of Baltar's followers," he explained. "They've barricaded themselves in. I don't know where they got guns, but it's probably the safest place on the ship."

"Thank gods. Don't trust Racetrack," she warned them, "She's with Gaeta, and last I saw was ordering people to find you."

He nodded, looking briefly disappointed. "Thanks for the warning," he added with somber tone, "This morning, too."

"Did you see the admiral?" Dee asked.

Helo shook his head. "No. We figured it was a trap, so we went to Baltar instead. They already knew bad things were happening, since Jeanne saw Zarek kill Laird on the flight deck."

Just when Dee thought the news couldn't get worse, there was more. "Zarek killed Laird? Oh my gods," Dee repeated, horrified and sick. Sweet Chief Laird -- one of the few survivors from _Pegasus_ ' atrocities had been murdered on a ship where he should've been safe.

"I should have let that bastard rot on the _Astral Queen_ ," Lee muttered angrily, and Dee held her tongue on saying she told him so, knowing it wouldn't help.

She squeezed his shoulder in sympathy. "Roslin will hand him his ass."

"I hope so," he agreed, but raised his weapon as a group of four armed people came around the corner. Dee recognized Conner from Joe's, and thought for a moment he might prove to be an ally, but his face twisted and he fired.

"Toasters!"

The four were on the ground in only a few seconds of gunfire. Dee turned her head to make sure her side was all right, which they were, so they kept going toward the admiral's quarters.

There were guards there, though Dee wasn't sure whether they were there to keep people in or out of the area.

From behind a support pillar, Lee called, "This is Lee Adama. I order you to stand down, soldiers. Any interference is an attack on a civilian authority and military chain-of-command and both will be punished to the full extent of the law when order is restored."

They hesitated and Dee burst out impatiently, "This is the Caprica rep to the Quorum, you idiots. Let us pass, and no one has to get hurt."

"Too many have been hurt already," Helo added. "But we will not hesitate if you interfere."

"Stand down," Lee repeated.

The two lowered their weapons, and still keeping theirs up, Sharon and Helo kept them at gunpoint, while Dee and Hoshi went forward to take their weapons.

"You can join us," Lee offered. "Or you can find a quiet place and stay out of the way until this is over. Pick one."

The two glanced uneasily at Sharon and Caprica.

"They're crew. Our friends," Dee insisted. "Mothers. Everything's changing, and I know that's hard. But it's a test. We need to pass it, not fail and get everyone killed for nothing."

"Decide," Lee ordered. And despite his non-regulation dress shirt, the two marines stayed at attention.

"We won't stand against you, sir."

"Good," Lee said. "Where's the admiral?"

"Not here, sir. We haven't seen him."

"Damn it." Lee's fist hit the bulkhead, and Dee frowned worriedly. They needed to find the admiral soon. She pushed the button for access, but it was locked.

"Lee, you need to use your code," she told him, getting him to move and open the door to the admiral's quarters.

Weapons up, Lee was first through the hatch, and Dee went on his heels as they rushed inside. It appeared to be empty, at first.

Until they heard a weary woman's voice call from the back, "Bill?"

Lee stopped, lowered his sidearm and gave Dee a look that suggested he'd rather fight a squadron of Centurions than go in that room. She suppressed a smile and went forward.

"Madam President, it's Dualla," she called and went to the hatch between. She found Roslin sitting up in the admiral's rack, wearing a loose shirt and running pants, with her head wrapped in a scarf. Her feet were bare as she tucked them up beneath her.

"Lieutenant?" Roslin seemed tired, as if she'd been asleep, and confused about why Dee was there, and not the admiral. She clearly had no idea about what had been going on.

Hoping Roslin was up for this, Dee went closer, held onto the back of the admiral's desk chair, and reported as concisely as she could. Lee joined her to help fill Roslin in on Zarek and the Quorum.

Roslin listened, not asking any questions until they finished, but Dee watched in amazement as the weariness fell away from her, revealing the steel beneath.

"We need you to speak to the Fleet," Lee said. "Tell them what's happening here on _Galactica_ and not to listen to Zarek."

Dee went to the admiral's terminal and accessed the comm system, hoping she could access the inter-ship wireless from here without having to go through CIC. But the ship was not designed for a situation where the admiral would want to avoid CIC.

"We have to do this from CIC," Dee reported, disappointed. "Or the wireless array. I can't do it from here."

"Or," Roslin started thoughtfully, as she started taking her clothes from the cabinet, "what about an illicit wireless transmitter? Baltar has one."

Dee felt herself break into a smile. Because that was **exactly** what they needed, and she felt like an idiot for not having thought of it herself, after spending hours listening to his transmissions. "Yes, I think that would work. They can jam it, but it'll take a minute."

"Let's go see Baltar then."

 

* * *

Getting aft to Baltar's followers' compartment was quicker than Dee expected, but they had enough people in their group that some saw them coming and ducked out of the way. One marine saw them and tried to get to the phone on the bulkhead -- Sharon shot the handset right out of his hand, making him yelp.

But then they approached the cross-corridor and Helo moved up to the fore. "They're armed. Let me." He held us gun out and shouted, "Dragon! It's Helo."

"Come," Dragon called back. "Hurry."

Dee heard the hatch opening, as she went around the corner, following Helo, with Roslin, Hoshi, and Caprica following after her. Lee and Sharon brought up the rear -- Hoshi had tried to take Lee's place, since Lee was a civilian now, but Lee had given him a non-civilian look and told him to help the president.

They all went past the crates piled up around the hatch, providing cover, and Dragon and a long-haired civilian woman, who were both carrying weapons. The woman first saw the Cylons and started to object, before a look from Roslin made her hold her tongue.

"I wll see Gaius Baltar, right now," Roslin told her.

Dragon nodded his head toward the hatch and returned his attention to the corridor, continuing to guard the civilians and Hera inside.

Inside the hatch the room was so unexpectedly strange that Dee had to hover at the top of the steps a moment to get her bearings. There were curtains and it smelled of incense, and there were people everywhere - mostly women, but a few men, too.

Baltar was in the middle of it all, packing something in a box. And, to Dee's surprise, Tyrol was there as well, wings in silhouette in the dim light, as he spoke to Baltar.

"Chief!" she blurted, happy to see him here, free and unharmed.

Both men turned and their attention caused most everyone there to quiet down and look also. Roslin walked down the few steps to the main floor, looking at them. "Chief, I'm pleased to see you well."

"You, too, madam president," he returned.

A sudden whirlwind with curly hair burst from a girl's lap and ran straight to Sharon, who hastily handed her weapon to Helo and picked Hera up.

"You have a wireless transmitter," Roslin stated. "If we're to stop this ridiculous mutiny before everything gets worse, I need to borrow it and speak to the people of the Fleet, especially the Quorum."

At first Baltar didn't seem to hear her, too busy staring at Caprica, and then he shook himself and faced Roslin. "Transmitter? I don't know --"

"You have a transmitter," Dee told him sternly, in no mood to put up with his crazy babble. "I could've shut you down any time in the last six months, you know that, right? I didn't because the admiral told me not to." She got very close and stared him right in the eye, angry. "And he didn't vote to have you thrown out the airlock. You owe him."

"Of course," Baltar agreed, eyes darting to Lee and then Caprica and off to the side. "Of course, I owe him. And you're right, I'd forgotten all about the transmitter --"

Galen rolled his eyes a little. "We've been using it to communicate with my staff and overhear CIC," he told Roslin. "But I could modify it back to broadcast to the Fleet."

"Do that," Roslin ordered him. "We need to bring this to an end, Chief."

"What else do you know?" Lee asked him. "Anything about the admiral?"

"All I know is Gaeta intends to put him on some kind of trial. They sent a few people out to find Lampkin."

"That means he's still alive," Dee pointed out.

Caprica moved near. "What about Sam and Tory?"

"Tory's on the baseship, with Sonja. But Sam..." Tyrol looked down at the homemade transmitter on the table and shook his head, pressing his lips together. "I don't know. I hope he's holed up someplace safe." Then his head lifted as if reminded, "I did hear them recall Starbuck from CAP. She'd heading into the barn."

"Frak. They're going to take her, when she lands," Lee said, and his jaw tightened. "She has no idea about any of this. Can you warn her off, Chief? Tell her to go to the baseship."

"I can try," Chief started, but Dee put a hand on his arm, wishing she didn't have to say it.

"You can't. If you remind them about the transmitter, they'll jam the signal, and the president will never get through to the Fleet. We have only one chance at this."

"We have to warn her," Lee insisted. "She's walking right into a trap."

"I'll go get her," Helo offered.

"No, I'll go -- "

"No," Helo shook his head and looked adamant. "You're civilian authority now, it's my job. You have to stay." Lee looked about ready to spit with frustration, since he knew Helo had a point -- Lee was out of the Fleet technically and a sitting member of the Quorum. Helo declared, "I'll get her."

He grabbed Sharon's extra clips, brushed her shoulder with his fingers, and kissed Hera's hair. "Stay safe. Be back soon as I can."

Helo was out the hatch and gone before Dee realized that he was XO again, and somebody else probably should've gone. But it was too late now, and she had her own duty in helping Tyrol with the transmitter.

 

* * *

 

The wireless clicked on and Kara heard, " _Starbuck, Galactica_ ," an unfamiliar voice said, " _Actual orders you back to the barn._ "

Frowning, wondering why that wasn't Dee's voice and why the Admiral would order her home, Kara acknowledged and turned back toward the ship. It had to be something serious, and finally her curiosity got the better of her and she signaled again, "Dee, Starbuck. Any reason for the recall?" Dee didn't answer. "Galactica, Starbuck. Do you read?"

There was no reply, so she shifted frequencies. "Baseship, Starbuck, do you read?"

The answer came back promptly, in a Six's voice, " _Baseship. We read you, Starbuck_."

"Galactica isn't responding to me. Can you reach them?"

" _Negative_ ," Leoben's voice answered, " _Their comms have been inconsistent for some time. We were informed there was a fire near the wireless array_."

"Understood." She clicked off and regarded the ship as she circled aft for landing. All looked peaceful, but strange voices in CIC and communications blackout made a suspicious tingle slip between her shoulder-blades.

There was no voice in her ear guiding her in, but the navigational markers were there, making it easy enough to land. As the landing platform lowered her ship, she looked around as soon as she could.

The flight deck seemed mostly deserted, except for Brasko and Figursky standing with two armored marines, waiting for her. Brasko's usually cheerful face seemed pale and distressed as she watched Kara's ship come in. As soon as Kara was down, Brasko crossed her wrists in front of her in a secretive version of the flight deck signal to stop. It was a warning.

Kara groped under the seat for her sidearm with one hand and put it in her lap, as she popped the canopy.

The two deckhands rolled the ladder into position, and Brasko climbed up to help Kara out. Her face was worried. "The marines say you're under arrest," she whispered urgently, taking Kara's helmet. "Chief Laird's dead. Chief Tyrol's in hiding. The colonel might be dead, too."

Kara took all that in, feeling terribly calm. "And Sam?"

"Don't know. What do you want us to do?"

"Don't get killed," she ordered. Brasko started back down the ladder and Kara rose, as if to follow. Instead, she raised the gun and fired once, hitting the one on the left in the head and dropping him like a stone. Her aim switched to the other. "You're next unless you tell me who's running this treason."

He sneered. "We're cleaning house, you Cylon bitch." He shot at her, missing completely. She didn't. With a quick look around, seeing no more of them, she jumped down the ladder, to scavenge the guns and ammo.

"Frak. Where's the admiral? " she demanded of Brasko.

"Don't know, but Lieutenant Gaeta seems to be running CIC."

"Gaeta," Kara snarled. "Should've known. You two hide and stay safe," Kara ordered them. Then she started to run.

The first person she found was Helo and she nearly shot him as he came out of the passageway at her. "Helo!"

"Thank the gods I found you," he said urgently, falling into step with her. "They've taken the admiral."

"Frak. Sharon and Hera?" Kara asked.

"They're safe as they can be. Dee, Apollo, Roslin, and Caprica, too. I knew you'd be a target, so I came to get you."

At least all of them were somewhat safe. "Is it true about the colonel?"

"Somebody strangled him in the head," Helo answered.

Kara's stomach lurched. "Oh gods. If Gaeta's running this thing, you know he targeted Sam." Her hand trembled briefly on the gun. "I said I wouldn't let anything happen to him."

"Let's get to your quarters."

It took them twenty minutes of hiding and creeping and gunfire to get to their quarters. She tried not to hope he'd have barricaded himself inside, but it was still disappointing to open the hatch and find it empty.

Their extra gun, ammunition, and Sam's knife were still in the cabinet, so she knew he hadn't been there since the mutiny had started. The pyramid ball was gone She put the extra clips into her pocket. "Come on. Maybe they couldn't find him either and he's still throwing the ball below."

But she had a very bad twisty feeling in her gut.

 _Alive, please, lords of Kobol, please let him be alive_ , she prayed silently as she glanced at her idols on the shelf. _Don't let me be too late_.

They ran into more traitors on the way, and there was a firefight. Even though her heart was pounding with anxiety, her hand was steady.

Her first indication she'd found the right place were the feathers on the floor outside the hatch. She picked up one as long as her forearm, silver grey shading lighter toward the tips -- it was one of Sam's flight pinions. "Frak." It couldn't have come out by accident, which meant someone had attacked him. "Bastards." But underneath the anger was a knot of cold fear in her belly -- if they'd plucked his feathers, what else had they done to hurt him?

"I'll check inside," she told Helo, who nodded and kept watch on the corridor. Then, sidearm ready, she spun the hatch and darted inside. But there was nobody in there to shoot -- only the aftermath of someone's sick game in the pale yellow light.

Her eyes grew wide and horrified. Her hand with the gun dropped to her side. "Oh my gods, no... Sam, oh Sammy, how could they do this...?"

Sam was there, tied to the pyramid backstop, facing away from the door, giving her a full view of the horror show. There were jagged ends of bones sticking out from the open wounds on his back. His wings, those beautiful reminders of grace and miracles, were on the floor, mangled and stained by the blood that was still flowing sluggishly down his skin. They'd had to cut him to get the wings off.

Her heart was beating too fast.

"Those frakkers, those frakkers, I will see them all dead for this, Sam, I swear it," she whispered harshly. Because one thing was for sure -- they had tortured him and then left him here to die, and she was going to kill all of them for it.

She scooted to the side to look at his face. His head lolled, and his eyes were shut. Her voice gentled to a whisper. "Sam? Sam, baby, can you hear me?" There was no response, even when she touched his cheek. His skin was cool and clammy, and she could barely find the fluttering pulse in his neck. His breathing was weak, too, shallow pants through his parted lips.

He was still alive, thank the gods, but it was going to be a close thing.

She yelled, "Helo! I need some help in here!"

Helo ran in and stopped abruptly. "Dear Lords of Kobol. Is he still alive, Kara?"

"He's breathing," she told him, shoving her gun in her waistband. "Don't walk on his wings!" she ordered sharply, when Helo looked as if he was going to tread on them.

"Kara, they're--"

"Shut up. Sam, if you can hear me, we're going to free you. It's going to hurt, I'm sorry." She knew he couldn't hear her, but she had to warn him anyway. "I'll untie him, you catch him."

Helo got ready and Kara went on tiptoe to try to undo the knots holding his hands at the top of the backstop. Gods-damn they'd been tied tight, and she was alarmed to see how raw his wrists were, chafed deeply by the rope. He had struggled for a long time before passing out.

Then she pulled the rope free, and Sam sagged into Helo's grip. Helo staggered under the weight, but stayed upright.

She yanked off her upper tank-top, and used that to press against the raw wounds, while Helo held him from the front, under the arms, with Sam's head on his shoulder. "Kara, we've gotta get him to Cottle," Helo said. "He's in shock. He lost a lot of blood."

"Don't you die on me, baby, don't you dare," she ordered Sam, feeling the unaccustomed welling of fear in her chest and the all-too-familiar feeling of guilt. She'd promised no one would hurt him. What the hell had she been doing while people had been torturing him? Going on CAP in the middle of a gods-damned mutiny, looking for Cylons, when the only Cylon she gave a damn about was getting butchered? Frak, was this her punishment for being so stupid and blind and not noticing the hate building?

She swallowed it back, trying to focus. They had to get Sam to Cottle. "Can you hold him like that? I can get his legs."

"Got him," Helo confirmed. "Let's go."

They carried their awkward burden toward sickbay. Kara kept an eye out, half-hoping there were people to shoot, but no one bothered them. "We need help!" she called out as they entered.

Ishay hurried close and she blanched when she saw who they were carrying and what had happened. "Dear gods. I knew it was bad out there, but this? Who could do this? Put him on there," she pointed to the nearest gurney and Kara and Helo put Sam down on his side.

Ishay grabbed two folded pads and handed them to Kara. "Apply pressure."

Kara did as she was told, pressing the cloth to the terrible wounds trying to get them to stop bleeding. Ishay pulled the oxygen cart over and put a mask over Sam's nose and mouth and then started to take his vitals. She put a monitor on his finger, got his blood pressure and shook her head at the results. "Definite shock. Pulse rapid, blood pressure dropping." Then she swabbed the back of his hand and swiftly shoved a needle into his vein, locking an iv shunt into place and hanging a bag of saline.

Cottle came over, and Kara let go of the cloth, so he could peek at the wounds. He shook his head in momentary pity, and ordered, "Transfuse one liter and scrub for surgery."

Ishay prepped another line for blood. When she and an orderly were about to wheel him away, Kara bent and whispered in his ear, "I'm waiting right outside, Sam. I'm right here. You hang on for me."

She found a small grey feather in his hair and held it tightly in her fingers, as they took him away. She folded her arms around herself, feeling cold down to her bones. Helo - who she'd forgotten was still there - put an arm around her shoulder. "We got here in time," he reassured her. "Sam will be fine."

"Fine? Karl, they pulled out the feathers, broke the bones, and ripped his wings out. They tried to torture him to death. He's not going to be 'fine'." Her voice had stayed cool and flat, until the last word when it broke and she swallowed. Then hardening her tone, she declared softly, "I'm going to find out who did it, and I'm going to kill them."

He squeezed her shoulder. "We'll find out. We need to know what's going on, and I have to go find Sharon and the Admiral. Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine, Karl. You go. Be careful." She sat on the edge of the chair outside of surgery, two guns on her lap with full clips, determined that nothing and no one would get in there to hurt him again.

 

 _tbc_


	5. Chapter 5

It took endless, interminable hours for Cottle to come out of the surgical suite, and by then the mutiny was over.

Cottle pulled down his mask to tell Kara. "The surgery went well enough. I removed the bone remnants and the tendons."

She realized what he was saying, and asked, "You took them off completely?"

He nodded once. "There was no choice. They weren't going to grow back, and all that damage will heal better if it's covered. He might need another surgery for skin grafts, but right now I want to see how it starts to heal first. He won't wake up until at least tomorrow. But you can go in and see him in the main ward."

She nodded and drew a shaky breath. "He's going to be okay?"

"He's going to live," Cottle answered, which wasn't the same thing at all. "More than that is up to him. Go on," he nodded toward the hatch.

"Thank you," she told him and went into the dim ward.

Sam's cubicle wasn't hard to find. The curtain was open, and she saw Ishay inside. Ishay glanced at her and gave a tired smile. "He did well in surgery."

Sam was on his side, a sheet drawn up to his waist. Kara's gaze went to the flat expanse of his back, white with pads and bandages from his shoulders to the base of his spine. Even though it hadn't been that long since his back had looked like this normally, now it looked terribly wrong.

Kara circled the bed, so she wouldn't have to look at the empty space where his wings should be. He had an i.v. shunt in his hand, pulse monitor clamped on his finger, and a tube in his nose, taped over his ears. "Oxygen?"

"So his ribs don't have to work so hard to breathe." Ishay attached a small bottle to the drip.

"What's that?" Kara asked.

"Morpha. As the anesthesia flushes out, I'll ramp up the dose." She paused and cast a look at Sam. "The wounds themselves were bad enough, and difficult to close. But we don't know if the wings were integrated into his nervous system that he'll feel it as an amputation."

Kara stared at his pale face, remembering how aroused he'd been when she'd touched his wings. "He felt it all. All of what they did."

Ishay nodded slowly, and pressed her lips together in a sympathetic grimace. "It's a terrible thing. Such cruelty. We'll do what we can to help him," Ishay murmured. "I'll give you some time. But I'll still be around if you need anything." She pulled the curtain behind her, giving them at least the illusion of privacy.

Kara pulled the stool over, so she could be close to Sam's unconscious face. "I'm here, baby," she murmured, and smoothed her fingers across his stubbled cheek and the bruise on the side of his face. "I'll be here when you wake up. And as soon as I know who did this..." she bent near to whisper in his ear, and her hate was like cold ice inside, "I will start with Gaeta before the Admiral has him shot. I bet he ordered it, and those _Pegasus_ scumsuckers were more than happy to do it. And I will make them very sorry they touched you. I promise."

 

* * *

The senior officers gathered in the admiral's quarters, with Lee and Roslin. Dee stood beside Lee, content to watch. Tyrol was there as well, as the sole Cylon representative. Dee found herself glancing at his wings, thinking of Tigh in the morgue, and Sam in sickbay, nearly following him.

Tyrol's arms were folded, angry as he looked down at Kelly. But Kara was furious, interrogating him to find out who had hurt Sam so badly. "Who did it, Kelly? You tell me, or by the gods--"

"Starbuck," Adama cut her off, and she clamped her jaw shut. But she continued to glare at Kelly.

"I saw Gage with feathers," Kelly said. "He had two colors, and I heard him say he wanted the full set. Then we went after Chief. I... had thought from what he was saying that Anders was already dead." He said the last without looking at Kara, but clearly anxious to tell her what he knew.

"Gage," Helo spat. "Figures that frakker would be involved. His 'sunshine boys' were probably with him."

Kelly nodded. "All scumbags. I hate Cylons, what they did, but what those thugs were laughing about doing to Chief, like it was a frakking party, it made me sick."

And thank the gods for that, Dee thought, because Kelly's change of heart had let them find the admiral in time to halt his execution. It hadn't been soon enough to save the Quorum, though; Lee was the only one left.

"Who else?" Kara demanded. "Who else had feathers?"

"I saw a civilian. I think he was with the resistance on New Caprica. I'm pretty sure he was the one who killed the colonel. His hate seemed real personal."

Kara snarled, "Charlie Conner."

Kelly nodded. "Conner, yeah, they called him that."

Dee started with surprise at the familiar name. "He's dead. He's the one who shot at us on our way here. You or Sharon got him," she reminded Lee.

"I did," Lee responded and shook his head in pity. "His grief was... too much for him, I guess."

Kara looked disappointed and asked Kelly, "Was he the one who hurt Sam?"

Kelly hesitated, glanced at Kara and then away as if he wished he could nod and tell her yes, but he didn't want to lie.

Kara put both hands on the table and leaned forward. "Who else? Tell me."

He didn't want to answer, but after a glance at Tyrol and Adama, he looked down at the table and said, "Seelix. She had a feather. Light gray. She kept touching her face with it."

Dee didn't want to believe it, not at first. Seelix had been so happy to be a nugget, and Dee remembered her playing Pyramid X and flirting with Sam before Kara had come back. But a light gray feather could only be one person. "Maybe she got it from someone --"

"I saw blood on her tanks," Kelly blurted, as if he wanted to get it all out. "She was mad at Gage and Gaeta for pulling her out to look for Tyrol, because she wanted to make it last longer. That's what she said. I ... " his hands tightened to fists and then loosened, as he said, "She was there. I don't know what happened, how she got so... cruel. That's not the Seelix I knew."

"I do," Galen murmured. "On New Caprica. She was vicious against the Cylons there, too." He gave a little dry laugh. "We all were."

Adama nodded once, looking exhausted and old. "We've all changed, Chief. Some more visibly than others," he glanced at Tyrol's raven wings, "but all these years have taken their toll."

"What are you going to do with them?" Kara demanded, and her eyes narrowed at the look that passed between the admiral and Roslin.

"We can't execute some of the last members of humanity, for this mutiny," Roslin said.

"But we can't have the security problem of people who are willing to do these things, either," Adama added. "Therefore we've decided to grant amnesty from the mutiny for most of the mutineers. Those who refuse to accept our leadership will be sent to the _Astral Queen_."

"Most?" Lee asked.

Roslin straightened and her face was ice. "There will be no clemency for the two ringleaders. Not after they had the Quorum assassinated. Rebelling is one thing, but murdering innocent people to grab power will not be tolerated."

Dee understood who they meant, and felt sick. She started to protest, "That was Zarek --" But she couldn't finish at the look on the president's face. "He ... Felix didn't mean any of this," she finished in a whisper. "He hurts and he's angry--"

"They conspired together. Gaeta started a ball rolling which has led to the deaths of forty-two people, lieutenant," Roslin said. "I'm sympathetic to his loss, but not to the extent I'm willing to overlook the horror he caused."

"And that's it?" Kara demanded furiously. "Just Gaeta and Zarek? What about Seelix who ripped out Sam's wings and then was sorry she couldn't drag it out even longer? Or does the fact that she tried to torture her squad mate to death somehow not count?"

"She'll go to _Astral Queen_ , where her hate won't be a danger to our allies," Roslin answered wearily. "Anders is still alive. Take that as your victory, Kara."

"Victory?" she repeated, in a strangled voice, and turned away with her fists clenched. "There's no victory here."

Dee thought of Felix, condemned to die, and had to agree. "No, there's not." She lifted her head and met Lee's eyes, and he nodded sadly.

 

* * *

 

Kara went to the brig, still stewing over the meeting. If Seelix really had been the one to torture Sam, she didn't frakking deserve the _Astral Queen_. But Roslin and Adama didn't understand. None of them had seen him, broken and dying, and something he loved turned to a torture rack. None of them had to go to sickbay and wonder if he was going to wake up.

Amnesty or no amnesty, she was going to find out if Seelix really had been there.

She dismissed the guards and waited until they closed the hatch behind them. Then she turned around and looked at Seelix, who was sitting on the small cot behind the bars.

Seelix stared back and finally broke the silence, with a sneering lip. "Starbuck."

Kara knew at that moment it was all true. She felt nothing but contempt and hate. "Gage, I understand; he was one of Cain's rabid dogs. But you... how could you do it? To a fellow pilot? To someone you'd fought with on New Caprica?"

"A Cylon," Seelix spat out in disgust. "Nothing but a toaster. Traitor and a spy. No wonder so many of us died when he was spying on us the whole time."

"He wasn't!" Kara said sharply.

"He betrayed us!" Seelix surged to her feet, close to the bars. And it made Kara furious to see there was not a single spark of remorse in her face. "He deserved it."

"Deserved to be tortured to death?" Kara demanded. Her lungs seemed filled with ice and for a moment it seemed impossible that she could breathe at all.

"He was a disgusting freak, no matter how many times the Cylon-lovers tried to shovel it down our throats as something good," Seelix sneered. "A Cylon monster dressed up like an angel to lead us to our extinction. But then I guess you'd know all about it, since you're one of them."

Kara hesitated and then smiled a little. "You know, I almost feel sorry for you, Diana. We made you a pilot, but you're still a small-minded, hate-filled deck monkey inside."

"At least I'm human," Seelix shot back, trying to score points, but Kara was done with reacting to that.

"Are you? I don't think so. I think you're a corpse that's still breathing." Kara leaned close and looked in her eyes. "See, the thing is, you picked the wrong victim. You picked my husband. Sam might think going to the _Astral Queen_ is enough punishment, but he's a much better person than I am. I just want you dead."

Seelix swallowed, but then she rallied, lifting her chin. "You wouldn't dare. Not after the Admiral's amnesty. Anders is still alive, I hear." At least she was smart enough not to be smug about how that might not last.

"Not for lack of trying on your part." Kara's voice grew quieter, but harder until it was a blade. She'd been back to that room to find his dogtags and she'd lifted the wings to take them to the recycler, unwilling to let anyone else touch them. They'd hung limply, because the bones were all broken. She could still feel the imprint of the wings against her palms. "Do you know what you did to him? Let me put it so you can understand how horrible it was: it was exactly as if you tore out his fingernails, broke all the bones in his hands, and then ripped his arms from his body. That's what you did. There's no amnesty for that."

In one motion, she pulled her sidearm up, flicked the safety off with her thumb, and fired. The shot echoed in the small room, loud and sudden, and Seelix fell with a hole in her forehead.

"See you in hell," Kara told her then turned to leave.

The hatch opened and guards piled in, weapons leveled. Kara held her sidearm by the trigger guard and returned their looks with a flat stare. "Return to your posts. And someone needs to take out the trash in that cell to recycling."

They parted for her, looking uncertain and a little scared, and no one tried to stop her.

She figured she'd get called to Adama eventually, but until that happened, she would make it easy for him to find her, and she went back to the infirmary.

It wasn't until she was sitting at Sam's bedside that the tremors started. But she refused to be sorry, not looking at Sam's face. He hadn't woken up since the day of the mutiny, but he didn't look peaceful in his unconsciousness, with the lines around his mouth deepening and the skin around his eyes turning translucent.

She took hold of his hand, the one not full of medical equipment, and held it between hers. "I did it, baby. They're all gone. They can never hurt anyone again." She held her other hand to his cheek - his skin felt hot against hers. Cottle had told her it was from an infection in the wounds, persisting despite antibiotics and aggressive draining. He'd told her it wasn't surprising, since heavy trauma to the body often weakened resistance to disease.

What he didn't tell her was that Sam was going to be fine.

"You gotta wake up soon, Sam," she told him. "I know it hurts. But please open your eyes. Don't let them win. Don't make me too late."

 

* * *

Kara wanted to feel a little pity for Gaeta and Zarek-- Gaeta especially, since she knew he'd been dealt a bad hand, but she wasn't. She'd felt more sorry for Leoben, when he'd been put out the airlock. These two had instigated a mutiny -- and for all that it had ended quickly, it had led to enough deaths to be horrifying, especially the brutal murder of Tigh and the Quorum, and Sam's torture. At least the others had managed to rescue the Admiral and take back the ship.

Kara was a little sorry she'd missed that part. But it felt like a weight off her shoulders when the ringleaders were gone. Now she could concentrate on Sam and finding a new planet, and the Fleet could hopefully put the hate behind them.

The day after they were executed, Kara got off shift, seeing the curtains were open and both Cottle and Ishay were there at Sam's bedside. There was something grave and ominous about their posture that made her quicken her step. "Doctor?"

"Starbuck."

She saw right away that in the intervening couple of hours, Sam had taken a clear turn for the worse. His skin looked waxen, and they'd taken out the cannula to give him an oxygen mask, and even so his breathing seemed more labored than before. "Doc?" she asked, taking Sam's hand in hers.

"His fever's spiking. It's a massive infection," Cottle explained. "It's causing his blood pressure to drop. In response, the heart works harder," he nodded his chin in the direction of the heart monitor, which was showing that Sam's pulse was rapid. "We help it with blood pressure medicines and extra fluid. But if it continues too long, he'll grow too weak to sustain the pace and enter septic shock. That could happen very suddenly, and if so... well, it'll be very difficult to turn around."

This could not be happening. He was supposed to be getting better -- all his attackers were dead, and he should wake up and not let them win from the other side. "There has to be more you can do?" she demanded.

Cottle shook his head. "We'll do everything we can to help. But in the end, it's an endurance test. He has to hold out long enough for me to find the right antibiotic to kill this strain."

She took a deep breath and answered staunchly, "Sam'll hang on. He survived Caprica and pneumonia. He'll be fine."

Cottle gripped her shoulder and moved away.

Ishay was wiping Sam's face and neck with a cloth soaked in ice water. There was also a wet sheet over his lower half.

"Is that going to help?" Kara asked.

"It can't hurt," Ishay answered. "The fever's not a terrible thing - it means his body's still fighting it. But we don't want it to rise too high, before the antibiotics work."

"They will work, right?" Kara demanded. "Right?"

Ishay added, in a softer tone, "He's very sick, Kara. I won't lie to you and say we're sure this is going to succeed. He hasn't been conscious since he got here, and that's not a good indicator of his willingness to fight this." She checked his temperature again, and nodded. "It's holding level. I've got to check on some other patients. I'll be back."

Kara sat on the stool and scooted it closer. "Hey baby," she whispered, and had to clear her throat when the words would barely come out. "You need to wake up now," she coaxed him. She touched his shoulder and was a little afraid of how his skin was radiating heat like his blood was boiling.

"Sam, Ishay says you're not fighting in there. And that's not the Sam I know," she murmured. "You're a fighter. A competitor. You fought off pneumonia without any drugs at all, and you're not going to let some tiny bug win now, are you?" She watched his face anxiously, praying for some sort of response. "Come on, Sam, you're not going to let those bastards win. I know they hurt you, and you've run away in your own head, but you've got to come back now. I hate to sound like Leoben, but dying here isn't your frakking destiny."

Dying of strangulation couldn't have been Tigh's destiny either, she thought, so maybe all of it was mystical bullshit, as she'd always thought. But ... no, Sam was right. She'd been brought back for a reason, and he'd been able to fly for a reason, and neither of them had found those reasons. There had to be more.

The back of her mind whispered that Chief and Tory were unhurt -- maybe the gods only needed one, and Sam was getting tossed aside, now that his flight had catalyzed the mutiny.

She stiffened her back and tightened her jaw. Frak the gods, if that was true. She wasn't going to lose him now.

Taking the cloth Ishay had left, Kara started stroking his face and down his arm as he shivered and murmured incoherent complaints.

She thought she might be hallucinating at first, as his eyelids flickered. But with some effort, he opened his eyes. He frowned, looking both confused and bereft, but she was still happy to see him awake. She leaned closer and took his hand in hers. "Hey, Sam. Welcome back."

He stared at her, chills visibly shaking him. His mouth moved, and she used her free hand to pull the oxygen mask down to hear what he was trying to say. His voice was hoarse and faint, through shallow breaths, "Kara?"

"I'm here. You're very sick, baby," she murmured to him, stroking back his damp hair from the side of his face with her free hand.

"Cold," he complained, and his hand trembled in hers. Even his fingers felt too hot.

"I know. You've got a high fever and we have to get it down. But it'll pass soon and you'll feel better."

He shuddered and blinked rapidly, and his eyes focused past her on something that wasn't there. He tried to lift his arm and gasped as the movement pulled on his injuries. His pulse rate leaped and he shut his eyes tightly, whispering something under his breath.

"Shush," she put a hand on his cheek. "I know it hurts, but you're going to be okay."

It took her a moment to figure out what he was trying to say in his cracked whisper. "Don't... please don't... please..."

Oh gods. She couldn't breathe around the sudden lump in her chest. He was begging them to stop hurting him.

"It's okay, Sam. You're safe. They're not hurting you," she reassured him, but it didn't matter what she said or how she touched him, he was caught in the nightmare. Even after she could no longer hear or understand what he was saying when she replaced the mask, his lips still moved, and worse, there were tears hanging on his lashes.

She was even more glad that his attackers were dead. But that satisfaction faded for worry as time passed. He rarely seemed to recognize her, sinking deep in fever delirium, seeing only his own memories of pain. She wrung out and re-wet the cloth a hundred times, trying to cool down what she could, praying the infection passed quickly. At the end of third shift, Ishay tried to kick her out, but Kara refused, filled with the inexplicable fear that only her presence was keeping him alive, even though she doubted he knew she was there.

In the middle of late watch, when sickbay was silent and deserted, she leaned closer, put her lips against his hot skin, and whispered into his ear, pleading, "Don't leave me. Please don't leave me."

 

* * *

 

Kara woke at the sound of the curtain moving. Expecting Ishay or Cottle, she was surprised to see Caprica tentatively poking her head in.

Her eyes met Kara's. "I'm sorry, I didn't think he had company," she murmured and started to withdraw.

"No, it's okay," Kara said. "You can come in, if you want?"

Caprica came through the curtain. She'd found a black shawl to wrap around herself. The combination of the pregnant belly and the distinctive platinum Six hair still looked a little surreal, but Kara had had enough dealings with her that her hand had stopped twitching reflexively for a weapon. She looked sorrowful, gazing down at Sam, and put a hand on her stomach.

She asked, "How is he?"

"The wounds got infected and made him sick," Kara answered. Automatically she checked his monitors -- his heart rate and temperature were still too high, despite the many drugs in his drip. But at least he didn't seem any worse from when she'd drifted off to sleep, so that was something. "He had pneumonia on New Caprica, too. What the frak good is it to be a Cylon if you're not even resistant to disease?"

"We are," Caprica answered calmly, not taking offense at Kara's angry question. "The only illness I know to infect us was that ancient one from the beacon. The Thirteenth Tribe -- the Five -- seem closer to human than the rest of us."

They were closer to human, except for the wings. And the wings were why Sam was here, and why Tigh was dead, which reminded her that Caprica was dealing with her own loss. "I'm sorry ..." Kara gestured toward Caprica's pregnant belly.

Caprica nodded, understanding what Kara couldn't say. "I was only ever a replacement for Ellen to him, I know that," she murmured. "But I did love him, in a way. I believe his death has brought our peoples closer together -- the humans whose anger consumes them are gone, and the Cylons have learned how fragile life is. We've now lost two of the Five, and Sam would make three, because of what we did." She paused and inhaled a deep breath, before adding softly, "The Five are paying for our sins. For my sins. If I could take his place, I would, Kara -- I swear I would."

Kara wanted to be angry, wanted to sneer back at Caprica that it was about time the Cylons figured it out, but looking at Sam's face, she said, "Don't waste the lesson."

Kara folded the cloth and wiped his face and neck. He shivered and murmured, objecting to the cold.

"We won't," Caprica promised. "The others on the baseship wanted me to come and tell you both that we are all praying for his recovery. You might not appreciate that, I know," she added, "but it's all we can offer."

"I'll take all the prayers I can get," Kara murmured. "Even ones to a Cylon god, if it makes him better."

After a moment, Caprica stirred. "I should go. I'm sure you'd rather be alone."

Kara would, but she also didn't. "No. Please. The more people who tell him to stay, maybe he'll listen."

Caprica nodded. At the side of the bed, she leaned down and her fingers caressed the side of his cheek and jaw. "Sam, I didn't save your life in that garage to let some nasty humans take it from you," she murmured.

Kara glanced at her in surprise. Sam had told her about it, when a Six and Boomer had saved his life from one of the Threes on Caprica. "That was you?"

"I couldn't let her kill him, when he was carrying such a tangible proof of love." Kara touched her tag on its separate cord around her own neck, hoping she could give it back soon. Caprica smoothed his hair tenderly. "Sam, we need you. The others know only how to be hard, but you and I know that love is strength, not weakness. And who's going to help protect my son?" She picked up his hand and held it on her stomach for a moment. "Please, we need you. Your people need you. And I think Kara needs you most of all, Sam. Don't leave us."

Kara looked at her, instinctively wanting to deny it, but when her eyes met Caprica's, Kara couldn't say the words. Saying she didn't need him sounded too much like letting him go, and she wasn't going to do that either.

Ishay came back in for her rounds, and Caprica left after a last kiss to Sam's cheek and pressing his hand against her belly.

Helo came soon after and his hand closed around her shoulder. "How's he doing?"

She rested her head against his solid strength. "Not good, Helo. Not good at all."

"He's in good hands, Kara. The best."

She nodded.

"I'll put in Hotdog as temp CAG if you want me to take you off the roster," he offered.

She started to nod her thanks, but then stopped, feeling guilty. Everyone was having a rough time after the mutiny - they were short-handed after the deaths and so many of the crew and pilots sent to _Astral Queen_. She knew they still had to send out Raptors to look for habitable planets.

And if Hotdog was acting CAG he couldn't be in a Raptor. She took a deep breath and changed her mind. "No, Helo. I'll come. Doesn't make much sense for me to sit here, when we need as many pilots out there as we can."

"You sure?" he asked, frowning in concern at her. "If you need to be here -"

"You should go," Ishay countered from the curtains, making Kara start with surprise, and she added in Helo's direction. "She didn't leave last night. Someone needs to take her out."

"But --" Kara objected, reflexively resisting the attempt to push her out.

Ishay smiled and came forward. "I promise I'll call you if anything changes, but -- " she glanced at Sam's monitors, "he's been stable for twelve hours. That's a good sign."

"But he's not better," Kara protested. "And Doc said his heart will give out if his pulse stays high like this."

"It's a strong heart," Ishay reassured her, and Kara wish it didn't sound quite so much like there was a silent "because he's a Cylon" stuck at the end. "And you need to get out of here, eat something, take a shower, and get your mind on other things for a little while."

Kara nodded, but bit her lip, glancing down at Sam's pale face. She bent down and kissed his temple. She thought she should be used to the dry heat of his skin, but it still felt scalding to her lips. "I'll be back soon," she promised him and whispered in his ear, "Hold on, Sam. Just hold on."

She succeeded in not looking back at the curtain, but hesitated at the main hatch.

"Kara?" Helo asked, being his usual steady, calming presence at her back.

She shook it off. "Just being superstitious."

Spending her shift away from sickbay made her realize all the changes on the ship. It seemed strangely quiet, though it was probably little different from how the ship had been before New Caprica. There were Cylons and civilians, though, were there wouldn't have been any before. Only the Cylons stopped her to say they were praying for Sam. At first comforting, it got irritating, and she was glad to escape into the pilots' area finally. The shower didn't wash away her fatigue or her worry, but it still felt nice to be clean. Doing her job felt good, too, that she was actually accomplishing something, even though the search for a new planet was no better than it had been.

But when her shift was over she was starting to get twitchy, and put her jacket in her locker in a hurry to back to sickbay. They'd turned Sam over and changed his bandages, so her first sight was of the clean white expanse of his back and the stark tattoo on his arm. Without the wings, he looked too thin and fragile.

"Hey, I see you're still sleeping. That's very lazy of you," she teased, but her fingers moved up his forearm and back down, smoothing the little hairs gently. The rhythm of wiping him down felt calming, and she realized it must be similar to how he had felt grooming his own feathers. The thought hurt, knowing that would never happen again. It was strange to realize how short a time he'd had the wings, and yet she had no doubt that the loss of them would hurt him forever. No wonder he didn't want to wake up.

A bit later Athena and Hera came in and Athena said, "Hera wanted to visit. We'll stay with him, you go eat dinner."

At the curtain, Kara glanced back to see Hera patting his hand and looking into his face sadly.

Kara left and choked down a few bites, knowing she should eat something, but returned to the cubicle. She hurried when she heard Sharon exclaim loudly, "Hera! Hera, stop! No, honey--"

Something crashed. Kara swept the curtain out of the way to see Sharon holding on to Hera. The i.v. stand was on the floor, and the end that should be attached to Sam was dangling from Hera's small fist. "Hera!" Sharon held her in one hand, and with the other pried it loose. "Hera, let go! What's come over you!" she exclaimed, tossing the line out of Hera's reach on top of Sam's body and holding Hera tightly against her, as the little girl fought her, struggling to get down again "I'm sorry, Kara, I don't know - it's not a game, Hera, stop it -- we have to go." Hera started to cry as Sharon carried her out of the infirmary.

Kara looked at the loose tube dripping fluid and called, "Ishay! Help!" The nurse hurried in and Kara told her, "Hera pulled the i.v."

Her face must have looked more panicked than she felt because Ishay reassured her, "It's all right, Kara. A few minutes won't hurt him. I can replace it."

A few minutes later he was settled again, and had never even stirred. Kara pulled the stool near. Inhaling a deep breath, she folded her fingers around his. "Well, that was exciting," she told him. "I guess we know why little kids make lousy doctors."

She paused, to smile a little at her own joke, but he didn't react and her smile faded. "Come on, Sam. You can hear me, I know you can."

As if to prove her right, his eyes cracked open, sank shut again, and then opened again with pained effort. His gaze was vague, as if he wasn't awake at all, but it was better than nothing.

She squeezed his hand. He tried to return the grip, hand trembling with weakness. "Sam? Can you see me?"

He blinked slowly and seemed to be looking at her, but his expression was empty and exhausted and she couldn't tell if he recognized her. She leaned forward. "It's Kara. I'm here. Sam, you have to hang on. Fight this, don't let them win," she urged him. His eyes sank shut and his hand was limp in hers again. Had he even known she was there?

It was all suddenly too much. She stood up and rushed out of sickbay, having to get away from the fear and the desperation and her own need for him to be okay.

She went to Joe's, had the new bartender pour two shots, and ignored everyone else in the bar.

Chief came up to her, wings rustling behind him. "Starbuck, how's he doing?"

She kept her eyes on her glass, knowing if she turned and saw those pretty feathers she was going to punch him. "He's dying," she answered flatly and emptied the shot glass.

The warmth in her stomach didn't melt the cold of fear in her chest.

"What? No, I thought--" Tyrol stammered in confusion.

"You thought he'd be fine with the wings ripped off?" she asked. "You thought wrong." She drank that one too and tapped the bar with the empty glass for another.

Tyrol was silent for a long few minutes, drinking more slowly. "He was so sure the guitar would help him remember. Then we'd know what we are."

"There's no magic, Chief. No destiny. It's all bullshit."

He observed quietly, "And yet here you are and here I am with frakking wings."

"Yeah, well, neither of those things has done anything but get people killed. Go away, Chief. Your feathers are making me angry and I'm going to pick a fight with you if you don't leave me alone."

Thankfully he moved away. But the reminder of Sam's song had stirred something in her memory, and she took the fourth shot over to the piano. Her father had taught her to play, and though she'd given it up after he'd left, sitting on the bench felt unnervingly familiar.

Idly she picked through some scales, and the skills slipped back into place as if she'd been practicing all along.

It didn't take long for her to pick out the chords to his song, but without Sam singing, the song seemed incomplete, so she tried to remember what he'd played in the bridge to add a melody line. She hummed to herself, trying to find the notes, wishing she had a better ear. Note and note, she experimented idly, until she had a few in sequence that sounded almost right. It was a piece of it, but it still didn't fit together

It was like a shadow in the corner of her eye. There was something familiar about that triplet of notes... She played again, shifting the key and adding another note, then echoing down again.

That was it. She had found it. She took her hands away as if the keys burned, now recognizing it. Her father had taught her that short phrase.

It was the same song.

Sam's song. The song he had been playing in his memories on a destroyed Earth more than a thousand years ago was the same song her father had taught her because he said she had hummed the phrase as a toddler.

Her heart was beating quickly, as she fought to understand. Sam was right; it wasn't a coincidence. Nothing was a coincidence.

Downing the last of her shot, she licked her lips, put her fingers back on the keys, and played.

In that moment, wrapped in the music, it was like flying. She felt something straining behind the notes, a faint trembling in her whole body similar to the feeling that had led her to Earth. She reached for it, knowing it was important, it was right, it was why she was here....

But she slipped between the notes, falling through them, and the moment was gone.

When she opened her eyes, Tyrol was back at her side. He breathed in wonder, "I remember... I remember Sam playing it now. On Earth. Play it again, maybe more will come back to me."

She shook her head. "Something's missing. It's not ... right. It's not complete."

In fact, she felt suddenly anxious and hollow inside, as if more than a few notes were missing. She stood up. "I need to get back to Sam." As soon as she said it, she knew that was what she felt. "Something's wrong."

* * *

 

 _He was freezing. He shivered, trying to tell someone he was cold, but no one listened. They kept putting ice on him, and it burned. The air was an oven. So hot. Why wouldn't anyone give him water? Everyone was hurting him. Because he was a C\ylon and he was a freak, and they hated him. They wouldn't stop._

Away. He had to find some place safe. Safe and quiet. Someplace no one could find him, or hurt him anymore.

It was so dark, but he saw in flashes. But sometimes he saw the Galactica _, and sometimes it was a Cylon ship. Sometimes it was the school on Caprica melting into the tunnels of New Caprica, or it was the C-Bucs home court in the Coliseum dissolving into a computer lab with screens and lights all around. He didn't know where he was; nothing made sense, whirling from one thing to another. He saw Kara and tried to hang onto her, but she slipped from his grasp. Strange terrifying shapes hovered close: people, Centurions, monsters. He cowered and hid, trying to run, but he couldn't move._

Occasionally he had the coherence to realize he was dreaming and none of it was real. But the reality was worse, memories of pain and blood and taunting voices, his own voice screaming at them to stop, begging them not to do it. They'd laughed.

They'd stolen his wings. Hurt him and hurt him until he wanted to die, and then they'd stolen his wings.

No, the wings were still there. He could feel them, but they were bound up so tight they were cramping. He needed to free them. He clawed the bindings off, frantically pulling at the cloth, until finally, he could breathe. But when he tried to open the wings, his back seized up in agony. There was nothing there.

He curled up, whimpering, and praying: Please, God, let it end. __

Then he was falling into the darkness, forever. He was glad, because finally, it was over.

He was standing in a long hallway of some old, grand building, with a high ceiling and a plush carpet under his bare feet. It was a nice place, restful and pretty. It didn't worry him that he didn't know where he was.

He would've stayed there, except he heard music somewhere off in the distance. It was familiar and so he started walking down the long hallway to find where it was coming from.

He came to a pair of tall doors and they swung open at his approach. The song welcomed him as brighter light rushed out, engulfing him in warmth and peace. He smiled.

He was home.

* * *

 _tbc_


	6. Chapter 6

When Kara came back into Sickbay, she found it was a flurry of activity. Staff were pulling curtains and looking behind equipment. Kara ignored them, frowning, to go to the ward where Sam was.

Ishay saw her and rushed up. "He's gone," were the first words out of Ishay's mouth.

Kara's heart froze with fear. "What .... what do you mean, he's gone?" Kara demanded, trying to keep calm in the face of her instant terror. Ishay could not be telling her, not like this.

"He was there, in bed," Ishay said, pointing. Kara turned her head reluctantly, and saw that Sam's bed was empty. She blinked and squinted as if somehow she was missing him behind the pillow. "Then when I saw the light that his pulse monitor wasn't taking any reading, I went to check, and he wasn't there. He'd pulled out his i.v. and all his monitors, everything, and he was just... gone." She shook her head.

"You mean he walked out? Is he that much better?" Kara asked, now not afraid, but very confused.

But Ishay dashed her hope quickly. "No, he's still very sick and probably delirious."

"So where is he?"

"We don't know. He's not here, and nobody saw him leave."

"What? That's impossible. There are guards on both entrances--"

"Nobody saw," she insisted. "But he needs to be found."

Kara went straight to the wall and the phone to contact CIC. "This is Starbuck."

" _This is Hoshi. Go, Starbuck_ ," Hoshi answered.

"Lieutenant, I need a security alert all-hands on deck two. Sam managed to wander out of the infirmary in a fever delirium and somehow nobody can find him."

" _Understood_." As soon as she hung up, the speakers in the wall clicked and the all-hands went out. " _This is CIC, calling a medical and security alert for deck two. Ensign Anders needs to return to Sickbay. Notify CIC or Sickbay if you see him._ "

Kara inhaled a deep breath. "I can't sit here. I'm going to go look."

An hour later, he still hadn't been found.

* * *

"Where the frak is he?" Kara demanded and folded her arms to hide that her hands were shaking. Sam was out there somewhere, desperately ill and in pain. If he hadn't hidden himself, someone else had hidden him away. She wasn't sure which answer was worse.

Helo and Adama had come from CIC at word of the disappearance. "He's still here somewhere," Helo reported. "No ships have left. And the Chief's crew have checked all the airlocks manually. They're checking the waste recycler now." When she looked at him, heart lurching at the thought, he added, "Just to make sure."

Cottle said, "He's traumatized and delirious. He's probably found some corner, trying to find a safe place."

"How did he get out in the first place?" Adama demanded.

"He got very lucky to pick that moment to wake up and walk out," Cottle answered. "Most of the staff was in surgery with me, and somehow none of the guards saw him, though they all swear they didn't leave their posts. But hell, I can't figure out how he stood up in his condition. Sheer stubbornness, I guess. Wherever he ended up, he's probably unconscious by now. Without medication and fluids, it'll be a fast slide into septic shock and death."

Adama listened to all this, frowning in concern. "All right. I want a full search, starting at the infirmary and spreading out. Helo, you coordinate it. Get the Cylons and Baltar's people to help if you need it. Make sure you check ducts and vents. Let's find him quickly."

"Aye, sir."

Kara tagged along after Helo, listening as he coordinated the search.

Then she looked down one of the short cross corridors and saw someone sitting on the floor. Her breath caught in excitement and hope, until she realized the figure was much too small to be Sam, but she frowned. "Karl? Is that Hera?"

He followed her gaze and then took off in a sprint, and Kara followed at his heels. "Hera? Sweetie? I though Jeanne was taking care of you?"

She glanced up at him and smiled. She had a piece of paper in front of her and was drawing a picture. Helo scooped her up. "We don't need two people lost, Hera. I need to run you back to Jeanne, because I have to find Sam Anders. Mommy will come get you as soon as she's back on board."

"Helo, wait." Kara picked up the picture. It was a drawing of a yellow-haired woman in a red dress and next to her was a taller stick figure, this one with dark hair and large wings, which Hera had colored in rainbow stripes. It had to be Sam, and there was something about the picture that made Kara very uneasy. Kara dampened her lips. "Hera? Do you know where Sam is?" she asked anxiously.

"Kara, of course she doesn't --" Helo started impatiently, but stopped when Hera nodded. "Sweetheart, you do? Where is he?"

She reached out, pointing with her tiny finger at the picture in Kara's hand.

Kara's gaze met Helo's, and he shook his head once, briskly. "Kara, we'll find him. I'm going to take Hera back to Jeanne--"

"Hang on." Kara looked into Hera's somber little face and she believed the girl knew something, even if she didn't know how to express it. "Please, Hera. He's very sick. He needs help. If you saw him, where is he?"

She appeared to be thinking about it and then squirmed to get loose. Karl exchanged another glance with Kara, and let Hera down, holding her hand. "All right, Hera, can you show us where he is?"

They went past the group of searchers, and Helo ordered, "Hotdog, keep up the search. We'll be back soon."

Hera led her and Helo down the corridors. Kara frowned. She had expected Hera to lead them back toward the officers' quarters, where she'd have a chance to see him. But as they went farther from those quarters and up a level, there was no way Hera had been here, and she doubted Sam could make it this far from the infirmary. "Hera, are you sure this is the right way?" she asked doubtfully.

Hera ignored her and kept going. She paused occasionally at intersections, but rarely for long, as if she was following a trail only she could see. Then she stopped right in front of an equipment storage room hatch and put her tiny hands on the bottom of the wheel. Helo helped her turn it and the hatch opened.

It was dark inside, but the lights came up automatically as soon Kara stepped over the threshold. Kara halted inside the hatch, staring in shock.

Hera was right. Sam was there, curled up in the middle of the empty floor. He was facing the door, and she could see the tattoo on his arm, starkly black against pale skin.

"Sam?" Kara called, and she wanted to rush to his side. But he was so still... What if he was --? She couldn't find out, couldn't face that reality, not yet. Her voice dropped to a low pleading whisper, "Sam?"

But he stirred at the sound and his bare feet twitched. He drew in a deep breath, and something leaped back into life in her chest, chasing the fear away. At least she wasn't too late. He let out a soft breathy moan, and his eyelids flickered. Then he sat up. He moved slowly, but with assurance, not weakness or dizziness, until he was kneeling upright, facing her.

He was naked, but that wasn't the shocking thing. He looked healthy again, not sick. The bandages and the stitched-up wounds on his flanks were gone, and his bare front seemed strong and untouched. More astonishing, his eyes were bright and clear, vividly blue when they met hers. His smile was brilliant and full of joy as he spoke to her.

"I remember, Kara. I remember everything."

"What?" she repeated dumbly, in shock. "What do you mean? Sam, you were sick. We thought you might die..."

He shook his head, still smiling. "Something wonderful has happened."

He climbed to his feet and a new pair of wings unfurled.

They stretched nearly the width of the whole room from tip to tip and were so white they shimmered iridescent, even in the yellow light in the room. Kara's breath caught. "How?" she whispered.

"I was dead," he answered quietly. "I remember falling in the dark, and I knew it was the end. There's no resurrection left for Cylons - I'd be as dead any human - but it was too much to fight. I let go. And then ... I woke up here. This is where the song brought us when we four realized we were Cylons; and this is where God sent me back."

For a moment she wanted to fiercely deny that he had died. Maybe he had thought he was dead, but he'd only passed out. But his body was free of the terrible wounds, as if they'd never happened, and the wasting from the illness was gone, also. Plus there were those beautiful perfect new wings...

It was very similar to coming back in a brand-new Viper, in fact. "Like me," she said.

He nodded. "Like you."

She folded her arms, and her voice strained for their normal banter. "How come I got a frakking Viper, and not shiny wings?"

"Jealous?" he quipped, grinning.

The answer to that was truly a 'yes', but she shook her head and answered, "I want to fly with you."

"We will." He couldn't seem to look away from her, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from him. "But right now I want to kiss you and touch you, and make sure I'm not dreaming."

She forced a little laugh, her feet bringing her nearer. "If you're dreaming, so am I."

Their hands met in the middle, but before they drew close a sudden voice said behind them:

"I'll - uh - find you some clothes. I'm glad you're back, Sam."

That made them both start, and turn to find Helo holding Hera.

"Thank you, Helo," Sam said, and his eyes met Hera's and her giggles faded away. He nodded to her. "You did the right thing, Hera."

Helo pushed the hatch closed behind him, leaving Kara alone with Sam.

"These are yours," she said, and took his chain with his own tags and the cord that held hers from her neck to put them over his head. His fingers took hold of her tag on his chest and he smiled.

"That's not all I'm missing," he said and finally reached for her, pulling her against him, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He was warm against her, and she could feel his breath on her hair and his pulse against her skin.

She dipped a hand into the new feathers, finding they were so fine and soft she could barely feel them sliding on her fingers. But her touch shifted their color as if they were clear like ice, breaking the light into rainbows. "I... I can't believe you came back like this," she whispered. "It's so beautiful. Like an angel..."

"You're my angel," he murmured and tipped up her chin to look in her eyes. "I couldn't leave you, Kara. I couldn't. Not now, not yet."

"Not ever," she whispered and went up on her toes to wrap a hand around his neck and kiss him.

 

* * *

Everything was ... there. Sam hadn't realized how much had been missing. If waking up to being a Cylon had been like having a light suddenly shine in a dark room, now he was seeing in color for the first time after believing the world was only shades of gray. Everything was different. He knew who he was.

The old Sam Anders, who'd been mind-raped and torn apart for his various sins, was gone. He'd been reborn, and he was whole for the first time in far too many years. Complex math including the equations to describe the universe and the flow of time and space that had been tantalizingly out of reach for so long, was in his mind again. He remembered the elegant chaos of the brain and the intersection of spirit and personality to create life and allow for its rebirth, again and again, aloft on the wind between the stars...

"Sam? Hello? Hey, I'm right here," Kara's fingers seized his chin and made him look at her. She frowned at him, looking suddenly worried.

He blinked, realizing he'd been enraptured by the memories. He smiled, reassuringly, and lifted a hand to her face in return. "I know."

"Sam? What is it?"

"You know how you came back with knowledge of Earth?" he asked.

"Yes..." she answered warily. "Do you know where to go now?"

He shook his head. "No. It's not like that. But I remember, Kara. I remember all of it. Things I haven't known in ... decades. And it's all back. It's..." he thought about how to describe it, "it's as if I've been living on a Raptor, and I thought that's all there was, but now the hatch has opened and I'm actually on the _Galactica._ There's so much."

"Like what?" she asked.

"So much, I don't even have words," he told her, but the words tumbled out anyway: "About Cylons and history and who we are. I know the truth about the war, and I know --" His hands had tightened on her shoulders in his excitement and he made himself pull them back. "Kara, I know that song is the key."

"The key to what?" she asked, still frowning in concern at him.

"I don't know. I just know it is."

She nodded slowly, then offered, "I found another piece. Another sequence of notes and when I played it, I felt something. I think we should play together. Maybe if it's a key, it'll unlock something else. But first, you should tell the admiral about the Cylons, whatever it is you remember --"

"No," he interrupted. "First I tell Galen and Tory and Saul. They--"

"The colonel's dead, Sam."

Her words hit like a bat to the chest. "What? Saul -- "

"In the mutiny. Charlie Conner strangled him," she explained.

"Oh. Oh, God." He turned away from her, overwhelmed. He remembered Saul, so many memories; the two of them had worked on the scanning system and algorithms...

"I'm sorry, I wouldn't have said it like that if I'd realized ..."

"No, I -- that's okay," he said as if from a distance. Dead. Could it be true? Had they been close enough to the _Colony_? The Five didn't need the Resurrection Hub if they were close enough to the _Colony_ and if the original chambers were still intact and functional. If they'd been close enough, which he could sense they weren't now. If the chambers were still intact... but maybe John had destroyed them to be vindictive. If, if... Both had to be true, or Saul was truly dead. They had been colleagues and friends and become family through the journey to the Colonies.

And if he was dead, he had never known Ellen was probably still alive, which hurt even more to know.

"You came back," Kara murmured at his shoulder, breaking through his grief. "Maybe he did, too."

"I don't know." That was a terrible thing to admit when he knew so much now. He didn't know everything. He turned back to her. "I think you pulled me back, Kara." His hand covered the wing tattoo on his opposite arm -- he'd been reborn but that was still there. It meant he and Kara were still connected. "Whatever we came back for, whatever our destiny is supposed to be, it's not finished yet. I don't know if Saul had that. Even though Ellen would want him back, I'm sure."

She blinked at him and looked hesitant. "You... you know Ellen's dead, Sam. You know that. You saw."

She thought he was losing it. He smiled a little. "I didn't know she was a Cylon, then, did I? She should have resurrected."

"But... but surely Caprica or D'Anna or someone would've mentioned her. D'Anna seemed sure she was dead, too," Kara reminded him, as if he'd forgotten.

Sam shook his head and his amusement fell away. "They wouldn't know. John would be sure to keep her hidden. Last thing he wanted was to let the others know about us."

"John? Who's John?" she asked in confusion.

"The Ones. Cavil." He felt ill and swallowed hard, but there was no escaping the other truth he had come back with: "The ones I have to stop."

* * *

Kara kept glancing at him, glad he was back and yet also uneasy. It was more than the new wings that were different, and she was still trying to get a handle on how different.

Her eye caught Helo's, and he nodded a little. He saw it, too. He leaned forward and teased, "Just like someone on _Demetrius_."

She glowered at him, affronted, when she had been nothing like this. She'd come back herself, with a case of ... obsession. Sam had come back as someone else. Or at least, more.

After Helo had come back with clothes, Hera having been left with Jeanne, Sam had gone straight to their quarters to grab the guitar, sending Helo to find Galen and call Tory from the baseship immediately. But they were waylaid by an order for Sam to go to sickbay.

Sam glared at the orderly. "I don't have time for this. Tell them I'm fine."

"Sam." Kara sighed and caught his arm when he would've continued down the corridor. "They'll never believe it without seeing it."

He hesitated, looked at the guitar, and submitted with poor grace. "Fine."

Kara couldn't hide a smile as he stomped toward sickbay. Her smile widened when he glowered at her. Then with a shrug and a rustle of his wings, he smirked and teased, "We're going the wrong way."

It took a second for her to figure it out, then she smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. "Not funny."

Smile widening, he taunted, "Of course it is."

"At least you recognize your own crazy behavior," she retorted.

"I learned from the best."

She grinned. "Damn straight." She nudged him with her elbow as they walked, glad to see a flash of his old self.

In sickbay Ishay saw him, and the tray in her hands dropped to the floor with a loud metallic clatter. She shook her head in helpless confusion as she stared. "That's... that's not possible."

He opened the wings to their full span, showing them off for the staff, and he answered quietly, "No, it's not, but it's true. I wanted to thank you," he added. "You never wanted to take care of me, but you did. I'm grateful."

She stared some more and shook her head to clear it. "You're ... you're welcome."

By the time Kara and Sam made it to Joe's, word had spread.

They made quite a stir, as they entered with people turning to look and stare and whisper. Caprica was there, sitting with Baltar and some Cylons including Tory, but Caprica's smile was the brightest when she saw Sam walking. Kelly, Costanza, the Agathons, and Tyrol were there as well.

Tyrol got up to meet them near the door, people giving way to him. He shook his head in slow amazement and held out a hand. Sam just looked at him for a moment. "Galen..." he started, sounding a little choked up. "Oh God, it's good to see you again." He put both hands on Tyrol's shoulders, the chief looking at him as if he'd lost his mind, as Sam pulled him into a hug.

Tyrol patted him awkwardly with one hand. "Um, me, too, Sam. I'm glad you're alive, and you got new wings. How the hell did that happen?"

"No frakking clue," Sam answered. "But I do know a lot more than I did before. But Kara and I are going to play the song and see if that helps, first."

The admiral was there, standing next to the bar where Lee and Dualla were sitting.

"You look well for someone at death's door," Adama observed. He looked exhausted and old, Kara realized in concern. Her gaze met Lee's and he nodded a little, sharing her worry.

"I got better," Sam answered with a shrug and a rustle of wings. "Admiral, you should know -- there's a possibility Saul might have resurrected."

Kara started with surprise, and blurted, "I thought without the Hub -- "

"That's true for them," Sam nodded in Caprica's direction. "Not for us. But I don't know if we were in range or not."

"In range of what?" Adama asked curiously and with a little suspicion.

"The ship that brought us from Earth to the Colonies," he answered. "It's a long story, and I promise I will tell it -- but first I have to do this." He held up the guitar, as if it explained anything, and started purposefully toward where the piano was waiting.

Kara was not quite so willing to abandon the admiral without some kind of explanation, "He woke up wanting us to do this. I ... have no idea what it's supposed to do. If anything."

Adama waved a hand in resigned dismissal and she followed after Sam. "You sure you want to do this?" she asked him in a murmur as she slid onto the piano bench.

His grin was sudden and bright flashing at her. "It's the Kara Thrace and her special destiny band reunion tour. We should bring Leoben up here to play drums."

She rolled her eyes. "You think you're so funny."

Snickering at her, he pulled a bar stool closer for himself, but didn't sit yet. Instead he took a deep breath and looked out into the gathering, announcing into the falling silence, "So. To answer your questions, no, I don't know how this happened. I don't know how I woke up alive, healed, with new wings. But what I do know is that I was playing a song on a guitar on Earth on the day the war began there and only five of us survived. And I know it's the same song Kara heard when she was a child and began drawing pictures of the same mandala that was inside the Temple of Hopes on the algae planet. It's the song we're going to play for you now because it's a key. There's a reason for our return, a reason we're here, a reason that all this happened... we need to find it."

He sat and tried a preliminary chord. Kara waited as he re-tuned two of the strings. Then he put a hand across the strings to silence them, and glanced at her. "Ready?"

A part of her wanted to complain that they should rehearse first, and that was the part that nervously licked her lips, but the rest was ready. Her nod was confident. "Go. You start."

He began to play, with a faster tempo than he'd played before.

But as before, the notes and the words seemed to circle around and tug on her. She knew exactly when to bring in her new notes under his lyrics, and when they hit the bridge, he took up her notes smoothly, embroidering a riff, as she took over the chords.

It was seamless, and in that moment when the music hung clear and perfect in the air, she knew they'd played together before.

Then, it ended. The notes faded away and she lifted her fingers from the piano. Her eyes locked with Sam's, feeling strangely open and connected to him, as if the music had spun a link between them that was still there.

The audience was still and silent for a moment, suspended in the music as well, before the moment was broken by a crash. Kara jerked and looked to find Tory on her knees, her chair overturned and she was holding her head.

Galen was staring wide-eyed at nothing, mouth open as if he'd been stabbed.

Sam rushed down to them. "Tell me you remember," he begged. "Tell me it worked."

Tory staggered to her feet and she looked at him as if she hadn't seen him in years. "Sam? Oh my God." She threw her arms around him into a tight embrace, and the shining black of her wings curved around to touch his white ones. Kara's fingers itched to paint the moment, of curves and contrast melding together.

But Galen's eyes held something else, as he looked at Tory. "Tory?" he whispered and his hand reached out trembling to touch her feathers. "Tory..."

She lifted her head from Sam's shoulder, smiling with joy as she turned. "Galen? I remember, I remember you-" And she was laughing as they fell into each others arms.

Then, abruptly, she stiffened and yanked herself away, her expression turning distraught. Then she turned and tore out of there as if wild dogs were at her heels. Galen ran after her.

Sam watched them go, frowning in concerned puzzlement. "They used to be together," he explained to Kara. "Maybe she was overwhelmed by the memories. It was sort of sudden."

"I think it's time," Adama suggested. "You need to tell us what you know."

"About what?" Lee asked. "About the ship you mentioned?"

Sam answered, "The truth. What no one in this room -- not the Five, not the Humans, not the Cylons -- has known for the last fifty years."

He set the guitar on top of the piano and took up his seat on the stool again. "The Thirteenth Tribe settled on Earth a long time ago and quickly lost all knowledge of resurrection. They grew and prospered, building cities and division between them in fights over resources. They also discovered a reverence for their own lives, now that death was final, and so they built the first mechanical beings to fight their wars for them. And it was into this rapidly decaying world that the five of us were born. Ellen was the daughter of one of the wealthiest, most influential men on the planet and she was... brilliant. All of you who saw only one side to her, there was so much more that was taken away..." he trailed off, looking upset before he shook it off and continued the story. "She worked with Saul on the AI systems. And eventually she gathered in Galen and Tory and myself, to add our specialties into the project. We knew from the old stories that resurrection was possible, but no one knew how it worked. Ellen finally cracked it by locating the _Colony_ , the original ship that had brought our ancestors from Kobol.

"Everyone knew the war was coming, so we worked on a way to save people. But we had only managed to get our own genetic material into the growing chambers as test subjects, before the bombs fell. By the time the resurrection process finished... we were too late. There was no one else left to save."

He stopped, looking down at the floor, posture slumped and stricken. Kara remembered what he'd said about recalling another planet burned to ash, and smoothed the back of his neck gently, trying to offer what comfort she could. His jaw worked for a moment, before he found his voice.

"A... being, a messenger of God, came to us then, told us that the same thing was going to happen to the twelve tribes and we could save them, if we went to them and warned them. So, alone, we retraced the steps of our ancestors in the _Colony_. But our ship didn't have a working jump drive, so we traveled sub-luminal. Our journey was long, and it seemed ridiculous that we could possibly be in time when hundreds of years were passing outside the ship. But it didn't matter, since we had no where else to go."

He paused and Kara thought about five people, slowly backtracking from Earth to the Temple of Five to the Lion's head beacon, and then to Kobol. She didn't know their subjective time inside the ship -- it wasn't as long as the two thousand years that had passed outside -- but they had been on that ship a long time, sole survivors of a cataclysm even worse than the Colonies. It was so lonely it made her heart ache for him. No wonder he'd looked so distraught when she'd told him the colonel was dead.

Sam continued, softly, staring into the distance, and gave a soft, bitter laugh. "We arrived too late. The Cylon war had already begun in the Colonies. The Centurions found us, and they realized we were what they wanted to be. We couldn't bear the thought of the Colonies being extinguished, as our planet had been. So we made a deal with them: they would stop the war in exchange for resurrection and our assistance in creating a new, more human-form Cylon."

As everyone figured out what he was saying, there were more than a few gasps and the Cylons all stared at him. Kara could hardly believe it. He had been in the Colonies when her mother had been young. He had ended the first Cylon War before Kara had been born.

Kara felt the skin and muscle of his shoulder under her fingers, realizing that the body she'd first known hadn't been old enough. It could not have been his original one, which meant there had to be at least one more death and resurrection in the story.

"Yes," he addressed the Cylons, "we made you. We made all of you, a mix of ourselves, and human, and Centurion."

"But, why? Why didn't we know this?" Caprica blurted in confusion and disbelief.

D'Anna answered, her voice lightly sarcastic, "Because the Ones blocked it from us. They've known all along. Why do you think they boxed my sisters? I saw the faces of the Five. The Ones knew I wouldn't stop until I knew who they were and what they meant to us."

Sam nodded. "Yes. We made John first, the prototype. Physically he was based on Ellen's father, since we had that DNA available to us. But we made a terrible mistake with him, in his personality base. He turned angry and jealous, and he hated that we had any sympathies for the humans. We called ourselves Cylons, but to us it meant the same as "Human"; we'd been born, we grew up, and we intended to get old, just like humans. But John didn't want to be like the humans; he thought it was a betrayal and weak. So he turned on us. He tricked the five of us into an airlock and killed us. When we woke up, we were... blocked. We had no memories of Earth, of Cylons, of anything. He sent us to the Colonies as nearly empty shells and we built new lives as best we could on our own. And John set up his plan of revenge, to finish the Cylon War, destroy humanity, and punish us.

"And that," he inhaled a deep breath, "is why we're all here now. In trying to stop what we feared most, we created it, instead."

A heavy silence fell as everyone thought about what he'd said. Kara's hand tightened on his shoulder, trying to fit together what she'd known with these new revelations. "Her" Sam had been born in a vacuum of his real memories -- he'd been a scientist, a creator of the Cylons, and he'd ended the first Cylon War. But all that had been taken from him. She knew the rest of the story, how playing pyramid had been his ticket out of the slums of Picon.

"The Ones betrayed you. They betrayed **us** ," Sharon said, and she sounded stunned. Kara realized this was all news to the Cylons as much as it was to the humans. "All Cylons. They warped us from what we should have been all along."

"We're not killing machines," Caprica declared softly.

Sam shook his head. "You were meant to be our family, to be our new people to replace those we'd lost. And we failed. It's time for us to start correcting our mistake now that we all know the truth."

"How?" Lee asked. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to call John and tell him to surrender. And," he added, glancing at the admiral, "find out if Ellen and Saul are really alive or not."

"Call him?" Dee asked, frowning. "How?"

"Through the Hybrid on the baseship. The Hybrids all know where the _Colony_ is, even if they're not allowed to reveal its location. But I instituted a failsafe that the Hybrids must obey the Five." He sighed a little. "I was suspicious of John, just not suspicious enough to stop him."

"You think he's going to surrender?" Lee asked in disbelief. "He **won**. Why should he surrender?"

"I believe the Fours might break from him, when they see the wings and find out the truth. They were always faithful in their own way. But even if they don't, we have no choice. If he won't surrender, I'm ... going to have to destroy him," he said the words with determination, but also reluctance. It wasn't an easy thing for him to think about. "This Fleet will never be safe as long as they're out there."

"We'll talk over the strategic situation in more detail tomorrow," Adama declared, intervening. To Kara's surprise he seemed more invigorated. "It's late. I'm glad you're alive and that you now remember the truth, Ensign--" Then he stopped and grimaced. "That seems wrong. You're not a rook pilot anymore."

Sam rose and came to Adama. "Sir. If it weren't for you, I'd still be on Caprica or NewCap with no idea who I am. Don't think I don't appreciate that; I do. But... you're right." He reached up and took off his dogtags, leaving only Kara's around his neck. "I formally resign from the Colonial Fleet, Admiral. Thank you for the opportunity."

Adama took the tags and then clasped Sam's hand, not hesitating at all. In fact, he hung on to Sam's hand a little longer than necessary, looking into Sam's face. "I realize you're older than I am," he said with a glimmer of a smile lightening the craggy features briefly, recognizing the absurdity of the much younger-seeming man actually being the elder, "But take it from someone who's carried the same guilt over starting the war. It was not you alone."

"No, not me alone," Sam agreed. "But it was me in part, and there's no getting around that. I need to fix this, Admiral. I need to stop my ... creation, my offspring, from doing any more harm to these people I crossed two thousand years to try to help."

Adama nodded, and his free hand closed around Sam's shoulder. "I understand."

 

* * *

As they entered their quarters, Sam was talking, more to himself than to her, "I need to go over to the baseship. Find out if Saul and Ellen are still alive. It -- oh god, to think of them both gone, I just... They have to be alive. Resurrection should have restored their memories, so they'll know who they are, too. And then--"

"Sam."

He didn't seem to hear her, continuing on, "I need to tell John that the rest of us remember. The other Cylons know the truth now, and as long as I can get that truth to the Fours and Fives, that should break them from his control as well. His reign of terror will be over."

"Sam!"

He stopped talking and blinked as if only now noticing she was there. "What?"

It made her want to laugh a little at the irony, knowing he was reflecting her own previous obsession back at her with his mind so focused on one thing. "I realize this is important," she said, planting herself right in front of him. "I get that this is why you're back. But do you think you can stop for, oh, twenty minutes and let your wife be glad you're alive and well again?" Her hands slid up his arms to tuck around his neck and pressed her body against his, making sure he understood exactly what she meant.

He smiled back at her. "I think I could, yes."

As his mouth came on hers, she reached behind him, rejoicing in the softness and perfection of the restored feathers again.

They both had new bodies now, but their tattoos were still there, their souls were still there, and the feel of him on her and against her was the same. They weren't who they had been, but they were still the same.

He was alive, and she was alive, and that simple fact made her hands greedy to touch, and her skin burn with need.

Afterward, tucked together on their sides while her fingers absently smoothed the feathers lying across her thigh, he did what they usually did and started to talk about whatever was truly bothering them. He murmured, "I meant what I said, you know. You don't have to worry that my feelings have changed, now that I have all my old memories back. They haven't. But..." he hesitated, and she tried not to stiffen wondering what that 'but' could mean.

He went on, "I know I'm different. You didn't sign on for bird Cylons, and you sure as hell didn't know you were marrying the person responsible for destroying your home planet. So I understand if you--" The quiet, matter-of-fact tone almost let the words slip right past her.

She jerked her head up and then flopped over to face him. "No. You aren't. Don't say that. You stopped the war."

He closed his eyes to avoid looking at her. "If we'd done nothing at all, billions of people would still be alive."

She shook her head. "You don't know that. Maybe without you, there would have been no survivors at all. Maybe the Colonies escaped Earth's fate only because of you. You keep saying you were too late, but maybe you were just in time."

"Kara," he objected, wearily, and she knew he didn't believe it.

"You were one of five survivors of Earth. Five. I didn't understand what that meant until today -- how alone you must have been." She stroked his chest, tracing the valley of his sternum up to his collar bone while she spoke, "But millions of people survived the first Cylon war, the one you stopped, and fifty thousand survived the attacks. I know not all of them have made it this far, but still, that's a hell of a lot more than five. That's because of you, too."

"I can't -- " he started in a low voice, broken by anguish, but she put a finger across his lips to silence him.

"You **died** , baby, at least three times." Then she added, in case he thought resurrecting meant dying didn't count, "You suffered terribly. How much more do you think you deserve?" He didn't answer that one, thankfully, because she was going to have to do damage if he said he deserved anything at all. "There's one thing I know for sure -- you're not my enemy. And no, I didn't know you'd end up a Cylon with wings, or two thousand years older than I am," she teased, "But it's not like you knew you'd end up with a frakked-in-the-head dead girl, either, when we made those vows."

Her smile faded when his expression didn't flicker with humor, staying grim and resistant. She let out a soft sigh and trailed her fingers lightly over his cheek, remembering when she'd done this just last night when he'd been sick and dying. This skin felt soft and cool beneath her fingers, like new. It should have felt strange, she realized, she should be bothered by the knowledge that he was a Cylon, he'd resurrected, and he was more of a stranger than she'd known. But none of that mattered, when she'd lost him today and only a miracle had brought him back.

She added, "But you know what? I married Samuel T Anders. That's still you. I said I wasn't letting go, and I meant it."

He paused, letting her words sink in. His eyes flickered away, thinking, and then he flashed a grin at her, frowning in pretended confusion, and joked, "So are you saying you kind of love me after all?"

She knew the guilt was only pushed aside, not gone, but she let it go and rolled her eyes. "Good lords, are you that insecure you need the little words? Fine." Leaning in, she punctuated each with a kiss, "I. Love. You. Moron."

The last made him laugh. "Birds of a feather." Then he rolled over her to kiss her and she pressed into him, kissing him back with insatiable hunger.


	7. Chapter 7

The following day, Kara piloted the Raptor with Sam beside her. He had to sit in the seat awkwardly with his wings as flat as possible to fit. Tory and Galen sat in the back with D'Anna and the Six who had taken Natalie's place as leader, Sonja.

Kara found it a bit surreal to be the only human -- if she was human -- on the ship, especially when three of them had wings.

But a ship full of Cylons and one human freak was a target, too, and she was glad for Hotdog's presence flying escort. She waved him off as they approached the basestar. "Separation in five. We're good from here, Hotdog."

She could see him lift his hand in a salute to his helmet before he peeled away. " _Wilco, Starbuck. Good hunting._ "

Her stomach felt a little queasy as they approached the baseship. It had healed itself from most of the battle damage, except for one pylon, and as they got closer she could see a few Raiders hanging like ominous fruit from the arms. But she felt ridiculous about her nervousness when she glanced aside at Sam -- she had no issues with her Cylon husband. In fact, after the mutiny she trusted these Cylons more than she trusted most humans.

In glancing back, she noticed D'Anna reaching out toward Sam's feathers and snapped, "Don't. No touching." He hadn't liked people pawing him before, and she couldn't imagine he'd like it now.

D'Anna pulled her hand back. "I... Forgive me," she said, lowering her eyes.

Even though no one had touched him, Kara noticed Sam's left hand was clenched tightly on top of his thigh. "You okay? Still claustrophobic?"

"Not as badly," he admitted, "But some."

"I feel it, too," Tory added. "Like the only reason I want to open my wings is because I know I can't. It's really annoying."

Sam's gaze lifted to the stars beyond the baseship. "I want to fly again, so much."

"We will," Kara promised.

He cast a smile at her and then pointed. "That entrance is closest to the Hybrid."

"How do you know that?" she asked curiously, adjusting the course. "These are all newer than the basestars during the first war. And you weren't on this one that long."

"We helped design them," he answered with a wry smile. "None were built yet by the time we... " he paused.

"Were murdered," Tory cut in, sharply. "Let's not soften what he did to us. He murdered us and mind-wiped us and sent us to the Colonies to suffer. And I'm telling all of you, I have no interest in saving him; I don't care what Ellen wants."

The chief's voice was a little bitter, "Do you ever care about what anyone else wants?"

"Galen!" she protested, sounding stricken. Kara turned to see her hunched over, as if his words had hurt her.

Sam also turned and asked, "What's going on? What was that about?"

"Nothing," Galen answered. "It's personal."

Kara would've pursued it, but Sam frowned as he faced forward again. As the Raptor headed into the docking bay maw, she murmured, "You sure this is gonna work?"

"It'll work. It has to."

That was more hopeful than certain, but she didn't press him for more. He had his old memories back, but they were at least twenty years out of date, and the Cylons had changed in that time. It was still so strange to realize Sam was so much older and done so much more than she had ever known.

In the docking bay, two more Sixes, an Eight, and a Two were waiting for them as Kara set the Raptor down.

"Welcome home," D'Anna said, as she punched the hatch controls. Tory smiled, apparently glad to be aboard, but Sam's jaw tightened.

"This isn't my home," he answered shortly, and went past D'Anna.

"Our home is ash," Galen added and chuckled a little in dark humor. "Both of them."

Outside the Raptor, Leoben had a satisfied expression as he watched Kara join Sam on the deck. "You found your destiny," he told them, "the favored of God."

"Cursed, not favored," Kara corrected brusquely. "We need to talk to the Hybrid."

"Now," Sam ordered, as if he expected argument like the one when Leoben had brought them from the _Demetrius_. But there was none, this time, with all the Cylons impressed by the recent revelations.

Kara was a little amused by their quick obedience and yet wistful that it had taken so long with such terrible suffering, to get everyone on the same path.

On the way, it seemed that nearly all the Cylons on board appeared in the corridors to stare at Galen, Tory, and especially Sam and his brand new wings. When they turned the corner to enter the corridor right outside the Hybrid's chamber, they found it lined with Centurions. Kara's hand went to her pistol reflexively, but Sam's hand came over hers. "It's okay," he murmured.

The red sensors followed the three remaining members of the Five, as the group approached the two lines of Centurions. The Centurions made no sound and moved nothing but their sensors. It was a sort of honor-guard, Kara realized.

"You shouldn't have done this," Tory murmured to Sonja.

But the other Cylons were looking with astonishment at the gathering. "We had nothing to do with this," the Eight said.

"They did it on their own," another Six murmured.

Sam approached the nearest one. Kara had no idea how he did it, since the sight of all the Centurions was making her heart pound and her fingers itch, and it had to be worse for someone who had fought them at close quarters as much as he had. But he kept it from his expression, if in fact he felt anxious at all, and addressed it, "John inhibited us as much as he inhibited you. We seek the end to John and his war. Will you join us?"

The Centurion lifted its arm and Kara very nearly drew down on it, knowing exactly how quickly that arm could strike and kill Sam. But all it did was point one long skeletal finger toward the Hybrid.

Sam nodded his head to the Centurion and then continued on his way to the Hybrid's chamber. She had to take a deep breath to settle her stomach before she could follow, reminding herself that the Centurions were different, too.

In the archway, she could hear the Hybrid's constant drone and recalling what had happened the last time they'd been in this chamber, made Kara want to hang back, Centurions or not. But when Sam went right up to the pool, she followed.

But there he hesitated. In a soft voice, looking down at the Hybrid, he said, "We didn't want to create them, but the Centurions insisted we improve on a version they'd already made. She was meant to handle the vast amounts of data and synthesize and communicate it. Which she does, but ... she turned out far more powerful than we anticipated. Joining with her datastream, even briefly, is never easy."

"Dangerous?" she asked.

"Not when I know you're waiting for me," he answered, and she was about to smack his shoulder for avoiding the question, when he grabbed her hand and pulled her close for a kiss.

The Hybrid quieted and watched him as he knelt beside the pool. "The parents of the children shine in the light of the sun," she said and then she smiled. "Awaiting new command." She held her hand up in invitation, as if she knew what he wanted to do.

He inhaled a deep breath and took her hand. "Let's do this."

Their joined hands slipped into the pool.

Sam's body went rigid and he let out a gasp. His eyes went unfocused and staring.

Leoben crouched beside Kara and murmured, watching Sam and the Hybrid commune, "This is forbidden to us. We're too easily consumed. I have boxed my own brothers, because they were driven mad doing this."

She shot a glare at him. "Not helping."

He ignored her, still watching Sam's face avidly. "But I think it might be worth it to see the face of God."

Sam didn't look enraptured, so much as he didn't look **there** at all. Kara, remembering long hours of fever delirium and blank eyes, swallowed hard and clenched her fists on her thighs, praying that Sam knew what he was doing.

Surprisingly, it was Tory who laid a hand over hers and squeezed. "Sam has done this before, Kara. He and Ellen did most of the design work for her mind, and they have the most experience in joining her datastream."

"But you've done it?"

"A few times. It's a bit too intimate for my taste."

Kara realized the soft whispers she was hearing were coming from his wings rustling together. His jaw clenched and he breathed unsteadily through his teeth. "Is he okay?" Kara demanded.

"It's a struggle to leave," Tory explained. "You have to reintegrate your own self apart from the Hybrid." She glanced at Leoben. "They have -- or had, I suppose -- little concept of themselves as individuals; that's why they got lost. Sam'll be fine."

Kara found that marginally reassuring and she tried to be patient as she watched and waited, tapping a finger anxiously. "Come on, Sam," she muttered.

With an abrupt movement, his other hand snapped upward, nearly hitting Kara in the face. She jerked backward, but then caught that hand in hers. His fingers curled around hers, gripping tightly, and she realized he needed help. He was fighting to get out and so she let him nearly crush her hand, hoping the touch would help lead him back.

Then, as if thrown, he fell backward, free. At first, he lay there, wings all spread out beneath him. He blinked up at the ceiling, looking dazed, and he panted for breath. He looked more post-coital than pained, and the thought made Kara grin and purr at him, "I guess it was good for you, honey?"

He managed a short laugh. "I'd forgotten how amazing that is." When he recovered enough, Kara helped him sit up. He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, blowing out a gusty breath. "Frak."

Then he shook his head briskly and straightened, to address everyone. "It's done. The Hybrid has located and connected to the _Colony_. We're free to contact them from the command center."

Galen and Tory started herding the other Cylons out, but Kara lingered behind when she noticed Sam wasn't moving. He had a distant look in his eyes that suggested his thoughts were still in the Hybrid's stream, not back with her. "Hey," she poked him in the shoulder. "You gonna mop the floor with the wings all day?"

He chuckled, perfunctorily, and roused to grab her hand and pull her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her, as if he needed the grounding. "I could feel you," he murmured, nuzzling at her hair and behind her ear. "I wanted to go out there, but you pulled me back."

"Damn right. We're not done yet," she declared and slipped her hands into his feathers. He flinched, shoulders and back twitching convulsively. "Sorry," she whispered. "Didn't mean to pull." She made her touch soft and gentle until he relaxed, his head resting against hers.

They stayed there for a moment, until Kara realized the Hybrid wasn't saying anything. The room was silent. When Kara pulled back to frown at her curiously, the Hybrid was watching them, smiling. And such was the joy in her smile that Kara couldn't help smiling back.

When the Hybrid saw she had Kara and Sam's attention, she declared simply, "Not an end, a beginning."

Sam nodded and took Kara's hand, rising to his feet. "Then we'd better get started."

 

* * *

In the command center, Kara watched the Cylons, wondering what she could do. She couldn't put her hand in the datastream, unlike Sam who had walked in as if he owned the place and gone directly to the nearest datafont. So she could only watch and, for the first time, wish that she could do that.

A moment later a square of the wall right next to Kara turned black, startling her with the abrupt change. She glanced at Sam in question, and he gave a little nod, explaining, "You'll be able to see what we see, though you won't be connected. The other end won't be able to see or hear you."

"Thanks." At least she could listen to what was going on.

Tory announced from the long datafont where most of the others were standing. "We're ready. Initiating contact. Sam, you'll need to link the Hybrids."

His hand was still in there, and his eyes focused on thin air. "Trying," he murmured. "Linked. Knocking on the door. Some resistance." He tightened his jaw and his eyes darted, as if he was looking at a personal heads-up display. He muttered, more to himself. "Come on, John. Pick up the frakking phone."

The black space next to Kara flickered and seemed to shiver, then the black shifted to a weirdly compressed image of a similar room, but one containing a Cavil, several model Fives, and two Fours.

Cavil took over the frame, seeming to look right at Kara. She took a step backward, thinking he could see her, but his words made it clear he was looking at Sam. "So you remembered," he said with a scowl. "I was hoping you'd have to die first."

Kara curled her hands, wanting to punch him already. But Sam wasn't provoked, answering quietly, "I did."

Cavil scoffed. "Really? You didn't download and resurrect here."

"There are other ways, John."

"Oh, stop calling me that. Ellen tries it all the time, 'humanizing' me. It doesn't work."

"So Ellen's alive. Is she well?" Sam asked.

"Of course," Cavil answered, sounding offended. "As if I'd hurt her."

"Before or after you killed us all and wiped our memories?" Tory interrupted angrily. "You betrayed us. You betrayed your brothers and sisters, and you started a war that only you wanted. You murdered millions and billions of people. And for what? So your own race can be near extinction, too?"

"That's their fault! I wanted a Cylon paradise -- a machine world better than the humans could ever imagine. And then the Sixes and the Eights and Twos ruined it," he glared at them.

"No," D'Anna said, and then smiled when he started with surprise to notice her there. "Brother. You ruined it with your lies. My sisters are all dead because of you. Now we know the truth -- you broke consensus long ago by hiding our parents from us. God has spoken and said that you are wrong. Look for yourselves, my brothers, and see the miracle."

Tyrol and Tory picked up her cue, spreading their wings out, sleek and black, and with a soft whooshing sound, Sam opened his high to shine in the stark light.

Cavil stared, for a moment utterly speechless. "What the frak is that?"

"A message of God," D'Anna answered. "The moment they stepped onto the holy ground of Earth, they transformed to show us that we're right, and you ... you are damned."

Kara knew that Sam wanted to break the Fours and Fives from Cavil's sway but this didn't seem to be working. She could see the Doral behind Cavil was sneering, not impressed.

"You made us into killers," Sonja added, furiously.

Cavil chuckled. "Don't fool yourself, Six. You are a killer. We're all descended from killing machines, even the precious Final Five. As they proved while butchering so many of us, so efficiently. In fact, speaking of efficient butchers, where is dear father Saul? Too busy drinking himself into a coma to visit? I can't imagine he's liking wings - though at least Ellen will get a good laugh out of it when I tell her about it."

Kara didn't know who gave it away - it couldn't be her - but one of the Cylons realized his words meant the colonel was dead. Cavil saw and his face looked briefly disturbed, but he shrugged it off. "Saul is dead, then? Well, that's a pity. It would've been easier to recreate resurrection."

Sam looked sick at the off-hand dismissal, and his wings seemed to droop, even after he'd closed them. "His knowledge of memory imaging is gone. He took resurrection with him. Even if we wanted to, we can't do it without him."

"You could figure it out, I'm sure. In fact, let me give you motivation: you and Tory and Galen return home to the _Colony_ and in return, I won't destroy what's left of humanity. That seems fair, doesn't it?"

Her stomach fell, and the words escaped Kara's lips, "Son of a bitch." Sam glanced at her, and Kara didn't like the look in his eyes at all. He looked thoughtful but not as angry as he should at the ultimatum.

Sonja was outraged. "How many times do you think you can betray everyone and anyone actually believes you?"

Cavil's response was quick. "You took resurrection away. You betrayed all Cylons, everywhere, and we're now all going to die unless we fix it."

Sam answered, his voice low but reaching everyone, "True death isn't the end. There will be resurrection on the other side. I'm proof of that, and so is Kara. We died and we came back to show you -- humans and Cylon alike -- there's nothing to fear."

Kara's eyes met his, feeling the truth of it, and she nodded slowly. For a moment, it was if only they existed in that space. She could hear distant music, familiar and welcoming, like something from her childhood calling her home.

John laughed, tearing the moment to shreds. "You always were ridiculously religious for someone who professed to love science so much," he mocked.

Sam answered calmly, "It's the same thing, John. God, the creator, Zeus -- it means the power and the perfection of the universe."

"I'd forgotten the Twos get their crazy from you," Cavil said with a disdainful glance at the only Leoben in view.

Leoben smiled. "Thank you, brother."

"You would think it's a compliment. Wait until you get to know your precious Final Five -- sorry, I should correct myself: your final three, since I have Ellen and Saul's dead." The amiable mask dropped from his face and he stared hatefully at Sam. "You three come to the _Colony_ , or I kill the rebels and the humans you love so much. It should be an easy choice."

The screen went black.

"So much for surrendering," Tyrol muttered.

"He wouldn't dare!" Sonja exclaimed. "Not against us and the _Galactica_."

"There's very little he won't dare," Leoben observed dryly.

Tory shook her head. "We don't have any choice."

"You can't," D'Anna protested, as if the very idea was absurd. "You can't believe him."

"He wants us all dead," Sonja agreed. "He'll imprison you, and kill us anyway."

Kara realized that Cavil's threat only meant anything, if something else was true. "Does he know where we are? You located him - does that mean he knows where we are, too?"

"Not directly," Galen answered. "The Hybrid can't tell him exactly where we are. But ... it's not hard to figure out a general area."

"He's far enough Saul didn't resurrect," Tory added, looking down at her hands sadly. "But John can't be too far. He knows where Earth is. He can triangulate our position."

"Then we need to move the Fleet," Kara declared. She turned toward Sam, expecting his agreement, but realized he probably hadn't heard a word.

His hand was still in the datafont and his eyes were focused on nothing. "Sam?" she asked, moving to his side and wondering if he was caught again.

He said slowly, as if words were hard to verbalize, "Ellen."

The entire room went silent with expectation. He was talking with Ellen?

"Accessing ... seventh channel," he went on. "Sharon... Boomer helping."

"Thank God," the Eight murmured.

"She's still a traitor, Vera," Sonja said to her.

"Shut up," Kara snapped at both of them, watching Sam's face. His eyes flickered but otherwise he was still. It was strange to think he was talking with Ellen; Ellen had been dead for more than a year, and yet Sam was talking to her in his brain.

He nodded once in silent acknowledgment, took a deep breath, and pulled his shoulders and wings back in determined posture. Kara recognized the look on his face from Caprica, when he'd refused to leave his people and come with her to bring the Arrow to the Fleet. She wasn't going to like what he was going to say.

He lifted his hand from the datastream and announced to the waiting Cylons: "Boomer's helping Ellen access the datastream without John's knowledge. Ellen and I have a plan. You will take all the Heavy Raiders, packed with as many of our people as possible, and seek sanctuary with the Fleet. Kara will warn the Fleet and jump it to safety. In one hour, Ellen is going to order the Hybrids to take down the _Colony_ 's defenses. And this basestar is going to destroy it."

Kara noticed one particular omission, and glared. "And you?"

He avoided looking at her by facing Galen and Tory and explaining, "At least one of us has to be in the stream to help command the Hybrids, especially if Ellen gets caught. The more the better to enforce our will." They nodded, accepting what he said. Kara didn't accept it at all, and shook her head in absolute refusal. She was glad to see she wasn't the only one shaking her head.

"No," D'Anna folded her arms. "I'm going with you."

Tory protested, "No, D'Anna, you're the last Three--"

"And that's why I'm going. I'm an individual, and I can make my own choices. The Ones murdered my sisters. They will pay for that if it's the last thing I do."

Leoben said calmly, as if he'd known all along what was going to happen. "This is what must be. Hera is the future of our race. We've known that from the moment she was conceived."

"And Caprica and Saul's child will survive. That's all that's important," Sonja nodded. "And we will save humanity after we nearly destroyed it. We must atone for our sins." The other two Sixes nodded in perfect agreement.

Kara listened to them all agree to go on this frakking suicide mission and shook her head furiously. "No. This is crazy. If the defenses are down, then we both -- baseship and _Galactica_ \- should attack together. Like we attacked the Hub, we need to work together."

Sam faced her with a smile. "So fierce," he murmured. "And I would agree with you, except I know this is why I'm back. Your destiny is to take the humans to a new Earth -- mine is to help us make amends. I won't allow more humans to die because of Cylons. It stops now."

"But -- But, Sam, you have nothing -- you didn't -- it's not your fault." She looked into his eyes and saw the same deep stubbornness she knew all too well. He knew and understood his path, and he would not budge from it.

He lifted a hand to lay against her cheek. "Use the song, take them home."

She bit her lip and shook her head. "There has to be another way."

"This isn't the end. You and I know that better than anyone. I'll see you on the other side," he promised.

She hit his chest with a fist. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she demanded, upset and furious. "You're not ... supposed to die on me. Not again." Her voice faded to a whisper.

He framed her face with both his hands and kissed her lips. "I love you," he whispered. "Take them home."

Then he pulled away so swiftly she didn't have time to react, and he looked at Leoben. "Make sure she gets on the Raptor and goes. And if you go with her -- or if anyone chooses to go -- let them. I won't keep anyone here against their will, not this kind of choice."

But when Tory and Galen didn't move either, Kara knew none of the Cylons would leave. At the opening she turned back and her eyes met Sam's. He was watching her leave, with a sad but resolute expression. Her breath caught in her chest, at the sudden pain of knowing that this was goodbye. She mouthed the words to him: _I love you_.

He smiled, blue eyes brightening, and she took that last image with her as she forced herself to walk away.

Then she was in the corridor, out of sight, following Leoben.

"You aren't going to do this, are you?" she demanded. "You can't."

He glanced at her, but kept walking. "The Hybrid told you, Kara. You are the harbinger of death."

Her feet stopped as she remembered. _Harbinger of death_. Gods, it was true. All the Cylons, except for a handful, were about to die. All of them.

"What else did you think it meant?" Leoben asked, sounding almost curious but puzzled, too, if there had been no other answer.

"But, no, this can't be right," she insisted, and it sounded futile and desperate to her own ears. "Not like this."

"Is it our death, or Sam's that bothers you?" he asked.

"He just came back and he's throwing it away! What was the frakking point?"

"Because someone had to learn the truth and bring it back to the rest of us," he answered, far too reasonably.

She shot him a glare. "You're exactly like him. Damn it."

"This is destiny, Kara." She was irritated to realize his fear of her had worn away and he was back to pithy and inscrutable.

"Frak destiny. What if I refuse to go?" she challenged and put her hands on her hips. "I can tell the admiral to jump the fleet. He'll believe me. And I can stay here."

"Jump where? Only you know where to take the fleet."

"But I don't! It's just a frakking song!"

"When it's time, you'll know." His gaze met hers, and for a moment she was reminded of that vision she'd had of him or a being who looked like him, right before the bright flash. "This will be for nothing if you don't save the Humans."

She resisted a heartbeat longer, denying what he was saying as long as she could, but knowing he was right. Damn him. No, damn all of them: Leoben, Sam, the Cylons, the gods, all of them. She had no choice - she had a duty and that was something she could never quite escape.

That didn't make it hurt less as she walked further from the command core back to the Raptor. Leoben accompanied her, silently, until they reached the docking bay. "You want to escape this suicide run and come with me?" she invited.

He tilted his head and regarded her. "As much as I wished the Cylon I saw with you was me, I know now it never was. God be with you, Kara. Forgive me. I never meant to hurt you." He bowed his head to her and left her there.

"Well, gods frak it all to hell," she muttered furiously, inhaled a sharp breath, and slammed the button to close the Raptor hatch with her fist.

The Raptor had been full coming to the baseship, but leaving, she felt terribly alone. Clearing the docking bay, with the baseship receding in the distance, she looked toward the core where Sam was. For a moment, the loss welled up, sharp and cutting, worse than when she'd thought he was going to die from the infection. This wasn't a capricious act of the gods; Sam was choosing to die, deliberately leaving her.

She was going to have to find a way to stop him. But she'd have to be quick. She flicked the wireless transmit button. " _Galactica_ , Starbuck. Possible hostiles on their way."

Dee's voice acknowledged, calm, and Kara took strength from it as she headed home.

* * *

The _Galactica_ had gone to alert status by the time Kara's ship was down. "One side, people! Open a hole," she ordered, hurrying to CIC.

"Starbuck," the Admiral greeted her.

It was still a little horrifying to look around -- no Tigh, no Gaeta. Helo was at the board with the admiral, now officially XO again, as he'd been after New Caprica. Dee had Gaeta's station now.

"The colonel?" Adama asked. His voice was level, but she knew how important the answer was to him, and it made her hesitate slightly before she shook her head.

"Sorry, sir. Ellen resurrected and has been a prisoner of the Cavils and Dorals since New Caprica. But the colonel didn't make it; the range was too far."

Adama nodded, not surprised, but one hand tightened to a fist that he pounded lightly on the surface. Then he asked her, "You said, possible hostiles?"

"There's the possibility Cavil might triangulate our position. But, sir, that might be what we need. Sam's intending to destroy the _Colony_ by -- " she realized she didn't know for sure what he was planning to do. "That baseship has hardly any armaments, so it has to be something suicidal and reckless. Ramming it probably." She shook her head. "He thinks the war is his fault, and his **destiny** ," she spat the word, "is to lead the Cylons into sacrificing themselves to save us. But it's wrong. Ellen's found a way with Boomer's help, to lower the _Colony_ 's defenses from the inside in about forty minutes from now. So instead of the baseship killing itself and everyone on board, I say we send the Fleet away and _Galactica_ and the baseship fight together."

Adama frowned and shook his head. "We can't."

"But, admiral --" she objected.

He lifted a hand to interrupt, and explained, "We **can't** , Starbuck. Chief discovered during the mutiny that the central spine is cracked at midship. There's structural damage everywhere. This ship has only a few jumps left in her and we need to find a planet before the ship falls apart. We'll only fight if we absolutely have no choice to protect the Fleet."

Her heart sank. Chief had known, and probably Sam had, too, that _Galactica_ was much weaker than she seemed. "But--" she tried again, and swallowed. "But they shouldn't fight alone."

Adama thought about it a moment, seeming regretful, and then said, "Maybe it'll work better than you think. Wouldn't be the first time I thought Anders and his band of rebels had no chance, and he pulled it out anyway."

He had a point. On Caprica, New Caprica, even on the algae planet - Sam had escaped what had seemed like certain death. But the difference was that he'd fought to stay alive long enough to get rescued. This time, he was giving up; something she didn't think she'd ever say about Sam.

Then she caught herself tracing circles on the top of the tabletop, and froze, staring down at the invisible mandala, seeing the colors in her mind.

Destiny. Gods frakking **destiny**. Purpose. She had hers. She knew what it was, if not exactly when. And now she could see that part of hers had involved pulling Sam behind her all along - saving him from Caprica, getting him to Earth to get the wings, and putting him on his path to be reborn with full knowledge of his past. He could only do this after he understood and took responsibility for the war.

But it still felt as if he wasn't finished; that he was making the wrong choice. And yet he'd seemed to certain...

Then if she'd had any choice of what to do next, it was taken away.

"Dradis contact at the outer range!" Helo broke into her thoughts, and everyone's heads snapped up to the displays.

"It's huge," Dee said in stunned horror.

"Action stations," the admiral commanded. "Ready to jump the fleet."

"Oh gods, it's the _Colony_ ," Kara realized. It had the mass of at least two battlestars. It looked like a small moon on the dradis, not a ship.

"Fleet is spooled and ready," Dee reported.

Kara glanced at the massive incoming ship, the tiny baseship, the Fleet, and _Galactica_. Sam was prepared to throw himself and the rebel Cylons in the way, protecting the Fleet, but she remembered what Leoben had said -- that sacrifice would be for nothing if the Colony destroyed humanity. That meant they had to get out of here. She had to find a way out of here.

 _There must be some way out of here_....

"Sir, belay!" she raced up the steps to the nav table. "I know where to go!"

"Hold for new coordinates," Adama confirmed instantly. "Move the ship between them and the Fleet."

"Aye, sir," Dee answered.

Kara played the notes on the edge of the table as if it were a keyboard, humming.

"Come on, Kara, hurry," Helo told her. "Weapons range in thirty."

Kara heard them all distantly, focusing on the music. Here. Now. This was the moment. If the Fleet left now, the Humans would survive, but the Cylons would die.

 _She was the harbinger of death_.

The music filled her, and her mind cleared.

Sam had said it -- God, Zeus, the universe, they were all different ways to talk about the same thing. So too was music another way to make a pattern out of chaos, like numbers.

Her fingers found the entry pad, knowing exactly which numbers she needed: "1123..." She typed them all in.

"That's beyond red line," Helo warned, at her elbow now.

"It's our new home," Kara lifted her face to the Admiral, imploring him to trust her. "It's where we have to go. I know it."

Without hesitation, he ordered, "Transmit the new coordinates, only to our fleet, and order the jump."

"Confirmed, all ships.... Fleet jumping. Fleet is away," Dee said.

Kara's eyes went to the display of the real-time image of the _Colony_. It looked like an overgrown Hub, all huge and spiky like something dredged from the bottom of the sea. It dwarfed the baseship bravely shimmering in space before it.

They didn't have the coordinates, but at least they could escape. "Jump, you moron, jump," she urged it under her breath, but it remained.

The admiral ordered, "Jump."

As _Galactica_ jumped, the baseship was left behind to confront the enemy alone.

The battlestar shook and trembled as it came out in real-space. Kara staggered and nearly fell, except for Karl's quick grab of her shoulders.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, in concern.

"I'm fine," she reassured him. It was true, but not fully true. She was strangely light-headed -- not dizzy, but the bulkheads and table seemed ... faint. As if they weren't quite there. She reached out to touch the plastic and though she felt it under her fingers, it wasn't real.

She looked up into Helo's familiar face, lit by the reddish alert status lights and the brighter lights above, and she smiled.

He frowned at her, puzzled by her sudden smile. "What?"

But before Kara could put words to the strange feeling settling inside, Dee called out from the other side of CIC, "Planetary mass on dradis. And, sir, scanners report nitrogen and oxygen atmosphere." Her voice took on an excited edge, shaking a little, "Large saline oceans. Green land."

Someone whooped in excitement and cut it off abruptly, recalling the last time they'd thought they'd reached a place of safety.

But Helo kept looking at her, waiting.

So she answered his unspoken question. "We made it," she said. Her voice carried across the room, as certain about this as she was anything in her whole life. "Welcome home."

Dee grinned, someone else gave a happy shout, and the Admiral hit the top of the table with both fists before reaching for the phone, probably to call the president.

Kara watched them all, smiling in contentment at their happiness. But it all seemed far from her and fading away.

Helo grabbed her in a hug, "You did it! You did it!"

She hugged him back but when her hands went behind him, there was nothing to hold onto. No feathers, no wings -- it was all wrong.

Helo realized she wasn't as ecstatic about their arrival as she could be and tipped up her chin to look at him. "Hey, C-Bucs rule, remember? They might be down ten points, but when Sam took the ball in the final seconds, they always had a chance. Hang in there."

She gasped a chuckle, surprised by the pyramid analogy, but nodded.  
Karl was right; she couldn't give up hope yet. She could feel Sam was still alive. He wasn't done yet.

She could wait.

 

* * *

On the baseship, D'Anna exclaimed in amazement, "That's the _Colony_?"

"It used to be a lot smaller," Galen said dryly.

Sam could hardly believe what the stream was telling him either. He remembered starting to grow the facility around the ship to make a new habitat for the new Cylon race, but this was more than doubled in size from what he remembered.

"They're hailing us," Sonja reported.

"The Fleet?"

Sonja waited until she could report, "They're away. And now _Galactica_ 's following them. ... They're gone."

At least the humans were safe. The Cylons could take care of their own problems.

"Colony has weapons lock," Vera reported.

"We still have thirty-two minutes until the defenses go down, what do we do?" Tory asked.

"We stall," Sam answered, heavily. John had moved too quickly and had a bigger ship than Sam knew about. "That's all we can do. We have no chance before Ellen gets the Hybrids under her control."

"We have no chance, period," Galen muttered. "Ramming it won't work. Nothing short of a direct hit on the core will take out that thing."

Sam feared he was right. The Hybrids didn't control all the defenses, even assuming Ellen could get the whole network down. He had only one baseship, which didn't hold a full squadron of Raiders. The baseship was no match for _Galactica_ ; against the bigger _Colony_ , he was completely outmatched and overpowered. There was no way to reach the core through point defenses and meters of armor hull. Surface damage would only grow back.

And yet, while Sam Anders, professor of AI, had no idea of how to fight a battle he had no logical hope of winning, Sam Anders, resistance fighter and pyramid player, knew he had to keep going. He would find a way.

He put his hand in the datastream, and formed the projection of the Caprica City Coliseum. He pulled all the Cylons in, so they seemed to be standing in the middle of the C-Bucs homecourt. Bright lights shone on them from overhead, and the stands were quiet and dark. It was the place he'd learned to fight, unwittingly practicing for the real battles to come, and it felt like home.

Sonja looked around with a smile, and he wondered if all Sixes liked Pyramid. "You can bring us all in, that's amazing."

He explained, "You can enter only the main channel and your own line's. But we touch them all, if we want to." Right then, he saw someone joining the first channel and brought John in.

John looked around disdainfully and then at Sam. "Let me guess, this is yours. Some attempt to put me on the defensive?"

Sam shrugged. "No. I haven't done this in a long time, so I wanted to form what I remember best."

"It's very nice for a fantasy world," John said with condescension.

Sam rolled his eyes at John's transparent attempt to put him on the defensive in turn. But keenly aware of the time clicking away on the game clock at the far end of court, he answered, "You're the one who claims to want to be less human, and yet you always scorn the gifts we gave you as Cylons, like projection."

As he'd hoped, that was enough provocation to send John into a five minute rant on how badly the Five had made the Seven, and with a little nudging, led into what had happened to Daniel.

Sam was perversely glad that the other Cylons - including the Fours and Fives who were listening in, even if they hadn't entered the main channel - were all hearing the pure, unvarnished truth about their history and about how badly John had played and betrayed them all.

It made him sad to know that John had never understood that the Five never loved the Humans better or more; they'd been trying to recreate what they were themselves and the world they'd lost. Originally Sam had hoped that with more human-form Cylons, all the tribes would be able to come back together, in peace. That dream had gone up in smoke, because of John's act of vengeance and revenge.

Now all Sam could do was finish the plan God had set for him and save the humans from the Cylons' -- from his own -- mistakes. Despite what Diana and what the others had done to him, he understood the hate, because he'd shared it. He would save the humans because he'd been one.

The clock was at eleven minutes remaining when John seemed to realize they were provoking him deliberately, and he got short. "So, I'm sure this history lesson is exciting to some of you, but it's old news. Back to the reason we're here. Have you thought about my proposal?"

"Frak you," Sonja spat. "You're going to kill us all anyway."

He glared at her. "You should be begging me for your lives. Don't think I don't know that if I destroy that baseship the three I want will resurrect. The rest of you? Won't."

"We can't recreate resurrection without Saul," Tory insisted.

John sniffed disdainfully. "Don't be so modest. I'm sure you can."

"Maybe we could," Sam admitted, trying not to look at the clock. The timing of this was going to work if he could push it just a few more minutes. "I don't think it will be as easy as you think. Memory imaging is key to resurrection, and the rest of us didn't learn it, because Saul already knew. What he knew died with him, when Charlie Conner strangled him in revenge for the death of his little boy on New Caprica."

John of course shrugged off the accusation of his indirect responsibility for Saul's death. Sam's jaw tightened at the sight. He said coldly, "So let me make this clear: I won't try, if you kill the rest of your siblings."

"Then, we have a deal. You three get in a ship and come here. I'll let the baseship go... wherever," John waved a hand vaguely. "I don't care. You have five minutes to launch, or I kill that baseship and you end up here anyway."

John vanished from the projection and Sam let the others leave it, if they wished. He held it for himself though, staring at the logo on the floor and around at the stands he remembered so well from years of playing here. He hadn't known who he was; all he'd known was the game.

"We fight," D'Anna declared.

"That's right. Frak him and his ultimatum," Sonja agreed, Threes and Sixes united once again. "When the defenses go down, we fight. We have Heavy Raiders - we can do damage."

"No," Tory disagreed. "He'll kill you all. If we do it his way, you'll have a chance."

This place, in reality, was ash, destroyed by the child he'd made with no sense of empathy, only jealousy and hatred. That child had killed uncountable numbers of people, committed horror and atrocity, and while Sam had been a victim of that horror himself, John's madness was the Five's responsibility.

Not the other Cylons. Not the other progeny. They didn't deserve to die because their makers had tried to be gods and failed. They didn't deserve to die right at the moment they were learning how to be alive.

There was only one answer left.

Sam lifted his head. "Tory's right. You need to live, and love, and grow into the people you were always meant to be. And I won't condemn Sharon and Caprica and their children to being the last Cylons in the galaxy. We lived that and our loneliness led to our mistake with John. So I'm going to do what John wants and get in a Heavy Raider. This baseship will jump away to safety."

Sonja and D'Anna were shaking their heads in refusal, but he noticed Leoben was watching in rapt silence. He knew there was more.

Sam tightened his jaw and squared his shoulders, pulling the wings tightly into his body. "And I'm going to jump that Heavy Raider straight into the Colony's engine core and detonate it."

Galen's eyes met his and they both remembered suicide bombers on New Caprica. _All this has happened before..._

Galen shook his head once. "Not alone, Sam. You'll need pinpoint accuracy for a short range jump, and you don't know the _Colony_ 's engine configuration as well as I do."

Sam didn't try to argue him out of it. "All right. So, Tory will stay and guide you--" he started to say to D'Anna and Sonja, but Tory cut him off.

"What?" she said, startled. "No. I go with you."

"You can stay --"

She cut him off, speaking urgently, her hands folded together. "No. I can't. I'm the one who has the most to atone for."

He frowned and shook his head. "No, you don't. You had nothing to do with John's mind or personality creation."

No, that had been him and Ellen, mostly.

"It was all of us," Tory said stubbornly. "Without my cloning tech, John would never have launched his plan because he would've stayed a single individual. But, that's not my ... regret. When we learned we were Cylons, I became something I never wanted to be. I did something..." she glanced at Galen and then back, straightening as she admitted flatly, "I killed Cally. She found out, and she was going to kill herself and Nicky. I grabbed Nicky and sent her out the airlock."

Sam was aghast. "You-- You didn't. Oh my God." No wonder Galen had been so upset and strange with her. She'd already confessed to him.

"I'm not a killer," she protested in anguish and held out her hands, looking at them as if she wasn't sure they belonged to her. She laughed hollowly. "Remember how I had to take all the spiders back outside, when they got into the lab? But instead of proving that's the truth about us, I took her fears about Cylons and I made them all true. She died in terror of what Cylons could do. I have to do something to make up for it; I need to save her son."

He nodded in sad understanding, accepting her decision. He remembered other humans going out the airlock under his watch. He still remembered all of their faces. Maybe it was as it should be -- the Five ending things together.

"And you have to stay," Tory continued unexpectedly, her slim hand curling around his arm and bringing his attention back to her. "You already died, Sam. I can feel this isn't for you."

Her jerked his head up in alarm at the suggestion, rejecting it wholly. "No."

"You must lead us to the Fleet," Leoben declared. "Tory can't guide us to our new Earth. You know the song that will bring us home, otherwise we'll wander lost."

Sam shook his head, stubbornly. "No, this isn't the plan."

"Your plan, not mine." Tory's fingers brushed his cheek and down to his chest and the dogtag still hanging there. "Kara's waiting for you, Sam. Go to her."

"No," he repeated in frantic denial, realizing his intention was falling apart all around him. This couldn't be happening. "No. I ... I won't be left alone. I can't. Don't ask this of me," his voice faded to a whisper.

"You won't be alone if you save them," Tory rose up on her toes to press her lips to his. He kissed her goodbye, trying to think of a new protest.

"Besides," Galen added, "I have a feeling it won't be for too long."

"Any time will be too long," Sam said, and he and Galen hugged tightly.

"Make sure Kara got Nicky to the right place, okay? Tell him I'm sorry -- about Cally, about ... everything," Galen requested with a sad half-smile, and squeezed Sam's shoulder. "We have to go."

Then he and Tory hurried out, ebony wings rustling together and overlapping, bringing them back together to face death as they had once been in life, long ago.

"Frak," Sam muttered, slumping and aching. But he didn't have long to be grieved.

Vera reported, "I have Boomer. They're ready in five."

Sam slipped his hand back in the stream, sorting through the data to the seventh, empty channel. "Ellen? Ellen?" He could sense her, somewhere in there, but she didn't answer. That probably meant she had already gone deep into the underchannel of the Hybrid's stream, getting ready.

It seemed all too soon, John contacted them, and Sam made sure he was in the seventh channel, letting the data-packets flow like a curtain between them, to conceal his presence.

"So?" John demanded.

Sonja answered, "They're on their way, you son of a bitch. Are you going to kill us now, or are you going to keep your end of the bargain?"

The Heavy Raider with Tory and Galen launched, emerging from the baseship, and their connection to it grew more tenuous.

"Where's all that Six faith?" John taunted. "When I have them on board, you can go. Because once I have what's left of the Five and resurrection, you - sister - won't matter anymore. It was so stupid to blow up the Hub and kill us all."

"It was the best decision we've ever made," Sonja said, and Sam could feel her eyes on him, heavy with a new understanding and sympathy. "We understand what the end of life means now."

John rolled his eyes. "It's highly overrated."

Sam hoped Galen and Tory were ready but didn't dare contact them and possibly reveal his presence still on the baseship. He watched their Heavy Raider clear the baseship's proximity, on a steady course to the _Colony_.

Sam's free hand clenched into a tight fist, wanting to call them back or stop them, but he didn't send a signal. They'd never get a second chance at this. He had to let them go.

"Raptor on sensors," another Six said, in surprise.

He felt a ... tickle - and then Ellen was there, with him. ".... _Fours... allies.... save them_..." she told him, forcing herself to use words even buried in the Hybrid's stream.

"Let them come," he ordered aloud.

Then he felt Ellen's determination, but also her warmth and love spread over the link, directly sharing her feelings as she said goodbye.

He let her feel his love and regret that the others had taken his place.

Her whisper seemed all around him and filled with a pure clarity of understanding, " _I'll see you on the other side. Do what you need to do and know that you have our love with you, always_."

Then she was gone from the direct link, but Vera reported softly, "In twenty... nineteen... eighteen..."

John came back in the stream as the Raptor slipped hastily into the baseship's docking bay. "I see a traitor or two are scurrying to join you like the rats they are."

D'Anna smiled, giving nothing away, "Rats know a losing side when they see one."

Then Ellen's command slammed into the _Colony_ 's Hybrids, and Sam threw himself down, diving deep in the stream, trying to help.

The datastream opened up -- vast and immeasurable, but not empty. From here he could glimpse the connections between everything: the web between atoms and gravity and time and other worlds beyond this one.

He tried to ignore their lure, focusing on the Hybrids to keep the defenses down as John fought them, panicked and furious that they were doing something he didn't understand. The Hybrids resisted, not wanting three of the Makers to die, and he had to help Ellen hold them as they screamed.

And he saw that Tory and Galen joined hands as they jumped their ship and left real-space.

An instant and eternity later, the Heavy Raider came back, glowing with its own fierce joy, straight into the white-heat of the _Colony_ 's fusion core.

It blew with a flash that ripped the fabric of space-time, unspinning the web in a wave of destruction and light, and he knew if it touched the baseship they would all die.

He grabbed the strands of music that hung in the black, pulling on the shimmering trail that Kara had left behind in her wake.

This was how Hybrids did it, seeing space laid out before them and reaching out and folding it, to bring **here** and **there** close together. He did the same, immersed in its deep embrace, as the _Colony_ tore itself apart in flashes of fire.

The ship shifted in the jump, energies flowing over and through him, for an instant sweeping him away. But at the very moment of ecstatic completion, the _Colony_ and its Hybrid stream were torn away, hurling him back into the nothingness of real-space.

Empty.

Gone.

He felt someone's arms around him and knew he'd fallen, but even when he opened his eyes, at first he could only see the depths of space. He forced himself to pull away, shoving himself back into the limited shell of his own body. He blinked and the claustrophobic confines of the command deck appeared. Sonja and Leoben were beside him, but he felt ... splintered and alone.

God, so alone.

"They're dead," he murmured. "They're all dead."

He closed his eyes, consumed by the emptiness welling from inside him. Ellen, Saul, Galen, Tory -- his only family. They were dead. Boomer, who had helped save his life back on Caprica an eternity ago was dead. All the Ones and Fives. The Hybrids and Centurions on the _Colony_. Its Raiders and Heavy Raiders. The _Colony_ itself. All of them.

Someone's hands curled around his. "Sam."

He refused to answer at first, but when she said his name again, he opened his eyes to look at D'Anna, who was kneeling before him.

"We've made it," she told him and smiled brilliantly. "The Fleet's here with _Galactica_. And there's a beautiful world beneath us. It's green and blue and white with clouds. We're here, and we're safe."

At first the words didn't mean anything, only slowly penetrating his grief. "Fours?"

A deep voice came from his left. "Three of us were on the Raptor. Ellen wanted some of us to survive."

"Thank God." He put out a hand, and one of the Fours grasped it and helped him to his feet.

For the first time, he felt all of his actual years. His body might be new, but he ached everywhere, from the tips of his wings to his feet. Deeper still, his spirit felt weary and broken. He opened his wings in a stretch and noticed the Fours watching avidly.

"It's all true," one of them said. "We were right, and our brothers were terribly wrong."

"At least you three survived, brothers," D'Anna said.

But so few. So few Cylons. And only one left from Earth. There had been five, and now there was only him.

Sam furled his wings and rested both hands on the edge of the datafont, feeling weary to the bone. He'd done it -- the baseship was here at a new world and he'd saved the Cylons -- and he couldn't find a single spark of joy over it within himself.

" _Galactica_ is hailing us," Vera reported.

"I guess I should reassure them." Sam put his hand in the font again to open the comm channel. The stream felt like ice, prickling against his skin, as if the interface was wrong. Or he was wrong. " _Galactica_ , baseship. This is Anders. I bring the remnants of the Thirteenth Tribe. We... " his throat worked, at first unable to push the words out, "we're the last. We ask for sanctuary."

There was a moment of silence, and then Roslin's voice came over the wireless, strong and formal, " _Granted. The Twelve Tribes welcome our cousins of the Thirteenth Tribe_." Then her voice turned a little wry, " _I think the gods have made it very clear that this is a sanctuary for all._ "

"So say we all, madam president," he answered.

Then Kara came on the line. " _Sam! 'Bout frakking time you showed up_." She was trying to sound annoyed, but he could tell she was grinning.

He couldn't help a smile in return, as the sound of her voice made him feel suddenly lighter. "Good to see you, too."

" _Let's meet on the surface_ ," she suggested, " _and see this place the gods have been such a pain in the ass about sending us_."

"Done. See you soon."

Since Heavy Raiders were even more cramped than Raptors, he took the Raptor that had brought the Fours. He and D'Anna, Sonja, Vera, Leoben and Simon packed into the Raptor. It was only when the ship had launched that he realized the ship contained a representative of each of the surviving model lines - seven remained of what had once been thirteen, before betrayal and death had torn them all apart.

As they dropped under the clouds, the green and brown mountains and grasslands spread out beneath them, untouched and beautiful. Then they crossed the terminus into night, colors shifting into the starry black.

He couldn't stay inside that tight confines of the Raptor one second longer, not with all that open air around them. "Hover," he ordered abruptly and moved to the hatch. "I want to fly down."

Nobody argued with him. D'Anna slowed the ship and he ignored the automatic warning that they weren't anywhere near the ground to open the hatch. The wind rushed in, cold and fresh against his skin, and he inhaled it deeply.

Then, kicking off his shoes, he threw himself into the air. For a moment he let himself fall to clear the ship, and then opened the wings. The wind curled over and through his feathers, like a caress, and he soared.

He could see the stars above him, through the clouds and the air smelled of new life and hope. As the world turned beneath him, he could see the horizon lightening to indigo.

As the stars faded and the sky brightened, he saw the Colonial landing area and angled toward them, dropping leisurely down in the pale fragile light settling like frost over this untouched new land.

As beautiful as the land was, nothing was as beautiful as Kara, standing in the glow of the coming dawn in a field of tiny purple flowers. He touched down on his feet, backwinging to land on one foot, lightly.

There were no secrets left, no more driving missions, only her arms holding him tightly, her lips on his fierce and hot, and her breath on his skin.

"Don't you ever do that to me again!" she ordered, hitting his back with a fist.

"Never again," he promised. He held her, letting her light and life chase away the darkness and death that weighed him down.

Her hands made light caresses of his wings. "I feel you," she murmured, lips brushing his neck. "You feel real."

"I'm real," he answered and sighed wearily, knowing the ache inside was his soul, not truly his body. "They made me come back. Made me stay. I ... don't know if I can do this..."

"Hush," her fingers smoothed his hair and down his neck. "It's going to be okay. You did it, you saved them, Sam."

"No," he whispered into her hair. "You did. You brought the humans here and I followed."

He could feel her smiling against his skin. "Fine, **we** saved them."

"It doesn't matter anymore. It's over."

"Not an ending; a new beginning," she corrected softly, reminding him of what the Hybrid had said. "Everyone's safe and free, and they can start again. And you and I ... we can move on. This isn't our place anymore."

Once she said it, he knew it was true. It was a relief to realize there was nothing holding him here. The surviving Cylons were strong, and they'd finish merging with their more forgiving human cousins. The prophecy of Hera would be complete someday, but it would happen without him. He didn't have to stay.

Feeling so much lighter, he traced the wing tattoo on her arm with one finger. There was another prophecy about to come true. They'd followed their destiny and they didn't belong here.

She pulled back a little, to look into his eyes. She was smiling, content and fearless about what was to come. "Are you ready?" she asked, taking his hands.

The music was out there, and they were going to follow it, wherever it led. He brought her hand to his lips and smiled. "Let's fly."

 

* * *

From not far away, Dee watched Kara and Sam. She'd seen Kara pull coordinates out of the song, and now she watched as Sam landed in front of Kara, with the grace of a butterfly. It hadn't seemed possible that someone so large could fly so beautifully. She turned to Lee, shaking her head. "Sometimes... I don't understand what's going on," she admitted. "But I'm really glad for it."

"Me too," he agreed. "We made it. Somehow. We're here." He glanced again at Kara and Sam, and then smiled at Dee. "It's a new world. Do you -- would you like to explore it with me?"

His face was hesitant, but his grip on her fingers was tight as if he would never let her go. She didn't keep him waiting. "I would. Every day, Lee."

A laugh from Kara interrupted and they turned to see Sam holding Kara close, as he opened his wings.

Over his shoulder, Kara's eyes met Lee's and she looked sad for a moment, mouthing, "Goodbye."

Lee stiffened and took a step toward her.

But Sam launched them straight upward, and Kara let out a startled shriek that became a joyful laugh that spread across the field like golden light. Dee's face lifted to follow, her mouth dropping open. Only a few beats of the mighty wings got them high in the sky.

They were soon high enough the sun's rays touched them and made his wings gleam. Squinting, Dee was sure she saw another shimmer at Kara's back, too, as they rose higher and higher in the sky, heading toward the rising sun.

Then the sun burst over the horizon, casting a sudden brilliance across everyone's eyes, and Dee had to look away. When she looked back, shading her eyes with one hand, they were gone.

Lee's hand found hers and she looked up into his blue eyes. He seemed a little sad but at peace, as he said softly, "They're not coming back."

"No, I don't think so. They did what they came back to do," Dee murmured and leaned her head against his shoulder. "They gave us hope."

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. Together they looked at the Humans and Cylons who stood together, some of them with their faces still turned upward to the sky.

She saw Karl and Sharon and Hera together in the tall grass, and Caprica with Baltar hovering protectively at her side. Brendan held Nicky while another Eight stroked the baby's hair. The Admiral and Roslin stood a little apart, their arms around each other. High above, there were thousands in the Fleet waiting their chance to come down and see this new world for themselves. It was a world full of life and promise, and Dee had no doubt they were home.

After the long night, the dawn had finally come.

* * *

>   
>  __
> 
> In the years that followed, generations were born to live and die. Children's children told the stories of the gods on the mountain: the Elder Gods who died to allow their children to rise up; Apollo and fierce Anastasia who ruled wisely and well; Athena and Helios and their daughter Hera, and the time she spent in the lands of ice; and the messengers who brought the living to their new world and guide the dead across the river to the other side.
> 
> In the dark of night, some whispered another story, of the firstborn of the new gods. At first he was the favored son of his creators, but he grew jealous of the mortals, whom his parents seemed to love more. He rebelled and a great storm of fire and death spread over the world. The great winged archangels fought him in a terrible battle and at great sacrifice, cast him into the inferno. But because no mortal being watched his fall, the people warned that he sits on his throne in hell and plans the next apocalypse.
> 
> But the people also told the story of Aurora, who walked among the mortals to search for her husband, the lord of the sky. The jealous lord of the shadows had betrayed him, tore away his memories, and cast him to the ground. There, he lived as an ordinary man and he became a great warrior, fighting for the old king. But when Aurora found him, she restored him and their love shone brightly. He and Aurora flew together to their home on the horizon.
> 
> The shadows of their great wings spread across the sky every dawn, holding back the darkness.

  


* * *

_I hope you enjoyed the story!_


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